


Everything is Electric Blue

by will_o_wisp



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sibling Incest, Technobabble, my Newt is kind of a prat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/will_o_wisp/pseuds/will_o_wisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max Hansen wants what she wants, and what she wants is her dad and her brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I know this probably a little out of left field but... I've had the idea in my head for awhile. And Sonora and a few others have encouraged me to post, so here it is. It's probably only going to be four or five chapters, of Hansen family drama, and Herc dealing with twin geniuses that have big mouths and short tempers.

“Shit, shit,” was heard in the corridor. The clock was ticking, and Striker Eureka was supposed to be in their test, and Max wasn't anywhere near LOCCENT like she was supposed to be. Striker was going to leaving for their walk and weapon's test _any time,_ and here Max was behind schedule and lagging due to lack of sleep.

Pausing for a puff of breath, head cocked for any sounds of the main doors opening, she heard footsteps. It wouldn't have bothered her, if it weren't for the voices.

“Chuck Hansen is the weakest thing about that team,” one was saying, and Max recognized the voice of one of the Vulcan Spectre J-Technicians. Blood boiling, her fist clenched against the wall as she dropped their bag.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. If I was them, I'd find someone stronger to drift with Herc. He's a legend, Chuck's just a mouthy young piece of shit.”

Baring her teeth, Max stood up straight now, waiting behind the curve, contemplating punching the asshole when they came around. But Max was honorable. Max could wait.

“Someone like you?” teased the other.

“Fuck off. Just because I couldn't find someone with drift compatibility with me doesn't mean I can't be a pilot one day.”

 _Ah._ John Jenks, fondly called JJ, not so fondly called Claptrap, one of the head tech's on Vulcan. And who constantly needed Max's help, whether the useless man admitted it or not. He talked big game though.

“Riiiiight.”

“Anyway, all I'm saying is Chuck Hansen might have a high kill count because of _daddy-_ who he's totally being fucked by, I swear, the issues that guy has-”

They rounded the corridor and Max stood with fists balled at her sides.

“Oh-ho-ho, don't you look mad.” said JJ, looking Max up and down, “and here's the legendary Max, youngest J-Technician ever, ready to tell me how to do my job. You got a crush on Chuck, huhhhhh? Want your big-”

Max thrust, palm forward, straight into his nose. JJ let out a surprised sound as it crunched and he flailed back. Ready for the lunge from the other one, Max side stepped and tripped them before flying at JJ again, landing a jab square on his chin. Sure, Max was more adept in the Kwoon, even as head of Striker's J-Tech team, but Max knew how to box.

Learned from Herc himself, one of the best boxers in the Sydney Shatterdome.

There was a sound from up the corridor and Max knew trouble was coming. If a CO saw Max lashing out like a wild animal privileges would be stripped, but hearing everything that JJ was saying about Chuck just made her want to fight.

“You little bitch,” said JJ, swaying, spitting blood. “You really do want that cocky, empty headed pretty boy to fuck you don't you?”

Baring teeth, ready for round two, there was a cough from behind Max, halting her.

“What the fuck did you call my sister?”

She smiled, pleased as back up arrived. JJ's friend got up looking red in the face, reaching out to tug on JJ's arm. She glanced at Chuck, who was wearing his drive suit. Hard to move in, but he could maneuver Striker, so he'd deliver more than a few choice hits if he had to. Next to him the bulldog, Rupert, sat down and panted.

“Didn't call her nothin',” said JJ, wiping his nose, sleeve coming back covered with blood.

“No, I'm pretty sure he called me a bitch,” she said, ready to start again. “Did you hear what he called you?”

“Yep. You two better trot off to mommy before you make me late.”

With a last look, JJ disappeared, the other following him and muttering about the infirmary.

She breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against him a moment, then looked up at Chuck, grinning. “I had that covered.”

“I know you did,” he said. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“Sod off, you're what, an hour older than me?” he demanded. “I came out here to see what was taking you so damn long, and you're having a fight I had to break up, and you call me _kiddo?”_

She shrugged, picking up her bag and taking Rupert’s leash. “Whatever, come on.”

They walked a little ways to the elevator and she pressed the up button, rocking on her heels.

“So how 'bout it?” he asked.

“How about what?” she said, stepping into the open doors. There were LOCCENT techs there, other members of Max's team.

“What he asked you.”

“What about what he asked me?”

He chuckled. “Ask you later,” he said, patting the top of her head like she was a child. “Watch Rupert during the test.”

The elevator dropped her off at LOCCENT and Chuck went on to the higher levels. She had a thought about going to watch them suit up, but she had to get her computer ready. She'd just updated Striker's weaponry, and the test was crucial.

Breezing in past the other technicians she went to the head of the room, taking an empty spot, and hauled out her tablet to plug into the computer. She was busy typing when someone came up behind her and put a small white mug with the PPDC logo filled with steaming coffee, white with cream.

She looked over and Tendo Choi gave her a wink. He was transferred from Anchorage ever since Danger went down, and he seemed to like her. Maybe too much, truth be told. He was married, but a notorious player. Max had to wonder how his wife was okay with it.

“You’re late. Try to keep on time, the Commander wants us running full bore, what with ‘Dome’s being shut down left and right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, cheeks flushing up a bit.

His fingers curled around her shoulder in a friendly gesture. “How's it going, Senorita Hansen?”

She smiled at him. “Oh, fine.”

“Your knuckles are kind of cut up.”

She looked down in surprise. “Oh. I'm going to get in trouble for that later.”

“Someone picking on you?”

“On Chuck,” she said mildly.

“You know Commander Hershel is going to murder you right?”

“Probably.” She shrugged though. “He had it coming.”

“You've got a death wish, Maxine.”

“Probably. But I beat him up so he might not report it.”

“True,” said Tendo, “manly feelings are still weak and brittle.” He pat her on the back when the com announced the pilots were in the conn pod. “Let's get started.”

**

“Coming out of drift in three… two… one,” said Tendo, holding up a hand and counting down on his fingers. He grinned when the drift terminated and leaned forward. “Striker Eureka, that was a wonderful session.”

“Drinks are you then, Ten,” said a rough voice through the comlink, making Tendo shake his head.

“Maybe we can negotiate.”

On Tendo’s left Max smiled and rolled her eyes before she went over to her array. She wasn’t an NBO, but during test runs with Striker she was always around monitoring her newest programs. She leaned over a computer, drawing up the schematics and data output.

Before she had a chance to ask, though, Chuck Hansen’s voice came out of her headset. “Maxi, there’s a glitch with the targeting systems since your last patch.”

She rolled her eyes, drawing up the schematics. “Ten-four, I’ll have a look at it ASAP.”

“See that you do.”

She closed the program with a swipe of her hand, moving it to her personal tablet, and waved at Tendo. “I’m going to go see them before getting on this.”

“He treats you like crap sometimes, Max.”

She shook her head. “I’m his favourite. He’s just a tosser. Come, Rupe!” she patted her leg, making the bulldog get up and woof, and the two of them headed out of LOCCENT Mission Control and down a level to the change rooms.

She opened the doors, hope in her chest, but it was sort of dashed when she saw the two of them in there. Herc was talking to someone in the corner and Chuck was on his own to the side, slowly stripping off his relay suit. It was down to his stomach, hanging off of him, and he stretched, giving her a clear view of his freckled covered shoulders that made her avert her eyes and bite her lip.

Rupert woofed, running over to him at once, and he turned and grinned at the dog before looking up at Max. His eyes danced a moment before he glanced at Herc and schooled his face and nodded at her.

“Hey little brother,” she said, pulling a chair roughly across the ground so the scrape would alert everyone in the room she was there.

“Don’t you have something to fix, Max? The HUD is glitchy,” said Chuck in a bored sort of voice, pushing a hand through sweaty hair.

“I’ve been helping out with Uluru Delta all morning, so I’m about to crash. I’ll get Higgens to check it out.”

“You know I only like us touching the tech in the conn pod,” said Chuck, somewhat snappish, as the tech left.

“Don’t talk to your sister in that tone,” said Herc, the words on autopilot, making Max smile and Chuck scowl at her. They both knew perfectly well, having been in Herc’s head on multiple occasions, that he cared them both equally even if he never actually said anything remotely approaching the word _love,_ but he always told Chuck off for picking on her and not the other way around. It was a balance, in a way, being daddy’s girl when she couldn’t be a pilot.

“Higgens can do it,” she insisted, standing up herself and picking up Herc’s Lucky Seven jacket, pulling it on over her J-Tech uniform. Max whistled to Rupert, who waddled his fat bulldog butt over to her, tongue lolling out happily. She had to leave before they started pulling off the relay suits completely. “I’ll see you guys back at the room.”

Decorum was a bitch sometimes.

Max was the back-up pilot for Striker Eureka, having made the cut at the academy but found herself unable to drift with anyone but her father or Chuck. With Chuck and Herc having the stronger drift, Chuck was the more ideal choice to pilot with their father. It stung, but she dealt with it. She was also an expert in J-Tech, so she headed Striker’s team when she wasn’t running sync tests with them.

After stopping to give Higgens his orders to check out the targeting systems she made her way back to the room and let herself sit in solitude a bit. Sure, maybe it was shirking her responsibilities a little, but not many people expected her to be round the clock doing maintenance either, not when she could get called to pilot at any time. She’d just finished an all nighter working on a glitch with the angel wings stabilizers and then was busy with Delta’s tech, so she didn’t have the mental capacity to look at targeting software to pick out bugs.

With a blow of a breath, she fell down into her bunk, letting Rupert waddle off to his bed, and stared at the empty bunk above her, peering through the gaps in the metal to the ceiling as she nestled down in the oversized jacket. Their room was no bigger than anyone else's, so it was crowded with the extra bunk, but she refused to room with the other J-technicians.

She was part of the team, damnit.

Closing her eyes she let herself drift away in thoughts of her brother and father. Another point where she was so screwed up.

Her phone vibrated and she dug it out, expecting a text from Higgens or one of the others that they needed her for something or other. She was used to not getting much rest, even when she just wanted to sleep or spend time with her family.

_Text: Supply closet, level 4, south corridor._

A flood of heat through her stomach set her tingling, pooling in her gut, making her tight and eager. She shoved the phone away, standing up at once, and headed for the door. She knew she had a time advantage by a clear ten minutes, so she locked up behind her with a swipe of her badge and started at a power walk to the elevator.

The trip took about seven minutes, which gave her a moment to catch her breath. She switched on the lights and went to the back as she dug her hand through her hair and shook, bringing it out of its braid and letting it hang in waves. She had her boots loose and was just shrugging out of her dad’s jacket when the door opened.

She smiled and turned. “Hey.”

It was Chuck, still looking sweaty. The second he was in her space she breathed the scent of his neck in, rocking up on tiptoes to put her arms around him. His hands slid down her sides, feeling electric to her, and she let herself be lifted and pushed against the wall. His lips were crushing against hers and when she opened her mouth she moaned softly to feel the touch of his tongue.

She was completely in love with her brother.

“You’re so hot,” he said, biting at her lips a moment, before letting her slide down. His hands were on the belt, loosening it, and she let him pull the zipper down with his teeth.

“You act like we’re in a porno,” she chided.

He looked up at her a moment, his lips busy with her exposed belly button. She never wore more than a halter top under her uniform, and she appreciated the view now as he lazily pushed his tongue at her stomach, dipping it into her navel. “You’re hotter than that. Watching you beat that creep up - god. I wanted to fuck you there in the hall.”

Max ruffled his hair as Chuck sucked a spot above her hip bone. “Almost worth the shite I got in from Hershel.”

“I’ll make you feel good to make up for it,” he said, before leaning in to lick at her underwear, pushing his tongue up against her cleft as her LOCCENT uniform fell down around her ankles. She moaned, slipping one foot free and spreading her legs for him, bracing back against the wall.

“You’re going to ruin my underwear.”

“Already is, love,” he laughed, before he yanked them down and buried his face between her legs again, fingers spreading her and tongue working fast against her clit.

She shuddered, fingers turning in his hair, and pressed again against the wall again. He was so _good._ Sure, sometimes he was a pain, but it was all an act. She knew it every time he touched her, murmured to her when Herc was out of the room. His hands could be so violent, killed Kaiju, got into fights in the kwoon, split lips and bloodied noses. But with her they were soft, just like now, one absently trailing down her thigh.

She came after a few minutes, thinking about how strong he was and yet how loving and careful he was with her. How much she loved him and he loved her. He pushed his fingers up and inside her as she quivered, hands turning to a vice on the back of his head and his shoulder. His face was wet when he pulled away, rubbing the back of his hand along it.

“Satisfied, big sis?”

“No,” she said.

He grinned, standing up, her hands working at his clothes. She ran her hand over the hard line of his cock before pushing his jeans down,  pushing up to kiss him as she pushed the waistband lower.

Chuck picked her up again, pressing her bare back against the concrete. He looked into her eyes as he pushed inside her making her mouth fall open, head tilting back to moan. The sound was loud in the small space as they started panting together as Chuck held her up against the wall, his muscles tight, perfect.

“I love you,” said Chuck, his voice broken, mouth against her neck, and she shuddered around him.

“Love you too,” she gasped as his teeth scraped her skin.

It had been like this a long time. She knew there were plenty of psychological reasons behind their relationship, but they didn’t register with her anymore. They’d always been kissing, touching, when things had been harder after losing mom. The relationship, and developing around the same time, had all happened as naturally as breathing. Now they knew each other’s bodies as well as their own.

He came inside of her, making her shudder and drag her nails over his shoulders as she imagined how close they were. A few more thrusts, he was still solid inside of her, and she came too, whining as she clenched around his cock.

He relaxed, letting her slide a moment, and he pulled her away from the wall. She clung to him, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw. His lips.

Slowly, he eased them down so they were both laying on the ground. They had only a few minutes to enjoy this - the panting, coming down from everything. She she closed her eyes and relaxed on him. she could hear his heartbeat in her ear and it felt like they were almost in sync.

She started giggling, feeling giddy and awake. Despite mostly pulling an all-nighter, she was feeling energized and ready to do something - anything.

After a minute of enjoying the glow they both knew that they had to get up. She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before standing, fishing for her clothes among the mess of the supply closet.

He was muttering something as she did up her uniform.

“Ghost drifting?” she asked, looking down at him. She could imagine it, from the one time she’d felt it. The electric blue of the drift between them, memories and thoughts coming in blurry, sometimes mumbled sometimes loud.

“I think so. Dad was talking to someone. Thought about me.”

“Did he listen in?”

“I doubt it.” Chuck stood up then, looking for his pants, but he looked concerned.

“Doubt?” she echoed softly, pulling on Herc’s jacket before picking out an elastic to pull her hair back.

“He might have noticed something but I can’t tell.”

Not quite liking the sound of that, she went to the door and waited. Chuck always left first, to make sure the way was clear. She envied the connection she so rarely got to feel with either of them, so she was a little jealous imagining how Chuck was so close to Herc just then.

Chuck paused by the door, leaning in to give her another kiss. She leaned into it a moment, and he pulled away, gave her a wink, and left the room. After a moment there was a knock at the door and she left too.

They fell into step next to each other, a clear amount of space between them as they walked. It was always like this, meeting for a bit of _something_ and having to pretend like they didn’t want to just be touching each other all the time. Ever since they were small they’d always been near each other, in contact with each other. Once a grade had tried to split them in classes and both of them had pitched such a screaming fit their mother had changed them schools.

Seemed like a no-brainer now, once they’d started learning about their own bodies, that they’d learned about the others too. Now she was just in love and it was such a good feeling, having that spar to cling to in a war that was growing so dark.

Back in their room Rupert woofed loudly, getting up and waddling over to them, his butt wiggling with the force of his tail wagging. Chuck leaned down to kiss the dog before he put his arm around her and pulled her over to her bunk. They both collapsed on it together and despite the creeping tiredness around her eyes she just sank into his arms to enjoy it.

“Still Ghosting?” she asked.

He nodded. “Barely. He’s far away.”

She swallowed down the jealousy.

“Can you hear anything?”

“Mumbles.”

“Good.” She yawned, but stared at him in a contemplative way. “Do you ever think about sleeping with him when you’re like this?”

Chuck looked away, which was answer enough, but she reached up to stroke his chin. _(“Don’t leave like that. It’s just a question. No trick.”)_ She was speaking the language they’d developed at five years old. Herc didn’t care for their Twin Speak, mostly because it had separated them when their mother had died, but they spoke it regardless.

 _(“I know,”)_ he said, _(“and yes, I think about it.”)_

She smiled at him, tilting his head down. _(“See? That was easy.”)_

_(“I just don’t want to ruin what we have.”)_

_(“It’s only ruining if you keep me out,”)_ she grinned, then yawned again.

That was the other point where the two of them were messed up, she knew. They were both in love with Herc in all the wrong ways. They were probably the most messed up family in the PPDC, and the PPDC was a place, at least when it came to Rangers, where family was encouraged.

But she knew if Chuck and Herc had something that she wasn’t a part of she’d be crushed. Completely and utterly. But that was something she knew she might have to deal with. She drifted with them every few months, not every week. And if head command had it their way, she wouldn’t drift with them at all. It was only at Herc and Chuck’s behest she remain backup pilot.

But when would one of them ever get injured or sick and need her to drift? She had zero Kaiju kills to her name. She felt like a wannabe. _Me and Mako should start a club. The forgotten pilots._ At least she’d _been_ in a Jaeger.

“Dad’s here,” said Chuck, looking up.

A moment later the door opened and in Herc walked, looking weary. He tossed his passcard on the table by the door, rubbed his eyes, then turned to look at the two of them. His eyes were unreadable, like usual, but Max fancied she saw some kind of fondness there.

She yawned again and Chuck nudged her and then stood up, making her fall into her bunk. She pouted, giving him a glare, and he reached down to pat her head condescendingly again. She mock-growled, as Chuck headed for the bathroom, telling her to get some sleep.

Herc waited until the bathroom door shut before he went to sit down in his own bunk facing Max. “You broke John Jenks’s nose,” he said, trying to sound severe.

She sat up, knowing this was an official rebuke, and looked down at Herc’s knees instead of his face. “He provoked me.”

“He said you attacked him when he came around a corner.”

She blew out a breath. “He was saying things about you and Chuck. Then about me. If I’d just _attacked_ him, he’d be in a lot worse shape.”

“Maxi.”

She chewed her lip and looked up. “Confined?”

“No, not this time. Fortunately, I know what sort of person JJ is, and he had a few colourful words to share with me. But you have to learn to control that temper. You and Chuck.”

Blowing out a breath, Max leaned back in the bed. She was so glad she wasn’t remanded to quarters. The last time, trying to work out of her room, had been hell. And not getting any real time with Chuck…

“Get them to watch their mouths.”

“I told him to. What was he saying?”

“That Chuck was useless. That… well.” She wasn’t about to tell him about the incest jabs, not when half were true. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I guess.” He shook his head. “I heard you were working on Delta all morning. You need some rest, Maxi.”

She nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “I suppose you want me to stay here the rest of the day.”

“I’ll bring you dinner.”

She blew out an annoyed breath. Stupid JJ getting her in trouble. So she stood up and shucked off the Lucky Seven jacket before undoing her J-Tech uniform. She was a little self-conscious as she stripped, but Chuck was in the bathroom and if she was just going to be stuck in the room as some weird form of mother henning and punishment she’d be doing it comfortably.

Chuck left the bathroom in a pair of boxers, his hair mussed and wet, glancing between the two of them, but he said nothing as he went to his foot locker.

She figured Herc would avert his eyes like usual as she dropped the overalls on the ground, stepping out of them. She didn’t _much_ care if he looked at her, in fact she sort of wanted him to, but she knew it probably made him uncomfortable to be so bold around him.

She was down to a sports bra and panties, fishing out a pair of sleep pants and finding a shirt, when Herc coughed.

“That’s a hickey.”

She looked down, frowning a bit. It was fresh from Chuck, just a few minutes before. “Uh. Well.”

She dared to look up, eyes fixed on Herc, who was looking like he was ready to roll heads. She couldn’t look at Chuck. Could _not._ “Do I have to beat someone up?”

She pulled on sleep pants and a loose T-shirt, one of Herc’s, as quick as she could. “No,” she said, maybe too quickly.

“Right,” he said. “Look, I know… you and Chuck are grown up.”

Mortified, she froze. Her hands found the cold metal of her bunk bed and squeezed as hard as they could, until her knuckles went white. _He doesn’t know, does he? Does he?_ She wanted to look at Chuck but she was sure just one wrong glance and the jig was up.

“Daaaaad,” she ground out, “I’m turning twenty soon. I’m too old for the sex talk, and it’s not like I’m bangin’ about like a dunny door or anything.”

Chuck snorted audibly at that, making her cheeks flush.

“Just saying. You’re out pashing with someone here in the ‘dome, and I get it, lot’s do. We’re our own community here, and-”

“Dad stop,” she begged. “It’s okay. Why don’t you bug Chuck, he’s the rock star, I’m just J-Tech.”

“Not a knob jockie?” Chuck joked.

“CHUCK!” snapped Herc, and Max dared to look this time. Chuck was grinning as he finished getting dressed. “Belt up that cakehole of yours!”

Chuck laughed, his eyes dancing. “Alright old man, no need to get all aggro. But seriously, lay off Max. Like she said, we’re almost twenty, and whatever she get’s up to is her business so long as she doesn’t get banged up.”

“Alright, fine.” He stopped at that, and she breathed out a sigh of relief, slumping down onto her bed. She did not want to have that conversation. Ever. Thank goodness Herc was quick to retreat when it came to personal matters. She still couldn’t think about the time she got her first period without a serious shudder.

She risked a glance back at Chuck, who met her eyes. He winked. She flushed and rolled over, trying to get comfortable in her bunk, but it felt like mortification wasn’t about to let her sleep any time soon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Things and stuff! Hansen family drama!

Memories flashed past her, blue and bright. Memories that were her own - when her and Chuck had built a clock for a Science Fair when they were nine, swinging from Herc’s arms in a playground, swimming over the Great Barrier Reef and watching fish swim by in schools. Memories that weren’t hers - two boys hunting for frogs at the edge of a billabong, a younger version of her dad with a young version of her mother in High School sharing a plate of fries, the sight of a kaiju on the HUD. Visions, things she could lock onto if she wanted to, if she just reached out and touched them.

She tried to keep her breathing level as she remembered all of her training.  _ In and out, let it go by. The drift is silence. _ But as she relaxed she had a momentary flash of freckled shoulders and an exquisite moment of pleasure as a memory from early that morning tried to surface. She could feel Herc’s curiosity pushing against it rather than away. Concern was there at the fore, and she pushed back until she was in her dad’s head.

There was a brief moment of clarity - a vision, all flickering lights along the edges, where Chuck looked up at Herc with need in his eyes, before everything went silent.

Saved by the drift. But she could feel Herc’s mind as the modesty reflex struggled not to break the two of them apart. She took a breath to steady herself, to banish the thoughts, to go blank and quiet, and after a moment Herc followed. Whatever they may or may not have seen was lost in the Now.

“Keep steady, guys,” said their junior LOCCENT officer Jenna Bautista, who was monitoring them for their sync test. 

She tried, but she was impatient. She knew she shouldn’t be. She’d get to drift with Chuck in a few minutes, and she wouldn’t have to hide from Herc there.

_ Hide what from me? _

Shit.  _ Nothing you need to see. _

Max reminded herself to breathe in and out, but Herc’s mind pressed gently against her, like he was  _ trying _ to chase the RABIT and get in her head. 

_ Something you feel like you can’t show me but can show your brother? _

_ Yes. _ He continued to press, and she could feel worry tingling along her entire body - not her own.  _ Stop fossicking about. We’ll talk about it later. _

_ Sorry. _

She could feel his genuine apology and let it go, breathing out, feeling the drift stabilize.

“Good job,” congratulated Jenna. “Fifteen minutes of stable drift and we’re out. Go through the motions.”

Together they started to move, boxing against a mannequin. They used the Filipino Suntukan as they moved in perfect tandem, each striking their dummy with the same flurry of blows, their breaths coming in sync, the drift silent and stretching between them as their thoughts became one.

It was relaxing, as she pushed her muscles to the limit alongside Herc. Even though each blow against the training dummy stung she liked it, loved moving with him. Being with her dad, or her brother, in the drift, was peace. And even though she couldn’t be a pilot, she could at least have this.

_ You might one day. I’m pretty old. _

_ Not that old. _

They both struck their dummies in the chest with their right fist, side stepped, and thrust with their palms. And she felt it, the wordless emotions flowing out of her dad. Love, pride. It made her a little weak, their next blows slightly out of synchronization.

A bell signalled the end of the exercise and the two of them stopped, stepping back to their circles, and closed their eyes.

“And that’s a wrap. Congratulations, your drift sync is at 97.4 percent, 2.4 shy of Herc and Chuck. Maybe next week we can try the six hour simulator test. Coming out of drift in three, two, and one.”

There was another flurry of movement behind her eyes, flashes of blue, before she opened them and breathed out a little sigh. She gave her dad a grin, who smiled back before he removed his PONS and handed it to an approaching technician.

“Six hours, huh?” she asked.

“You can do it,” he said, ruffling her hair.

She didn’t leave with him, wondering for a moment how much he’d seen. And wondering if he knew how much  _ she’d _ seen.

**

Something was bugging Max, Chuck could tell. She’d been cool as a cucumber all through drifting, but it was more obvious now that they were Ghosting. He couldn’t ask her though, because the three of them were all linked in their own way, moving in unison down the hall towards the mess, Rupert at Chuck’s heels.

Herc had his arm around Max up ahead of him, and Chuck was aching with the drift hangover to be touched too, by either of them.

It was Herc that caught that thought, turning a look over his shoulder at him, and Chuck looked down, feeling awkward. He was always clingy for the man after drifting, it was downright  _ embarrassing _ to be caught at it.

Didn’t stop dad from insisting the two of them sit while he fetched trays of food. He reached under the table to clasp his hand with Max’s, the two of them squeezing tight, thumbs caressing each other.

He couldn’t ask her what he wanted to, not with Herc so close, not even with twinspeak. He could still hear Herc’s mumbling thoughts as he moved through the food line for them.

Her leg hooked around his in response, and he got a brief flash of his own face, and a startling feeling that it wasn’t _ her _ memory he was seeing, though it was certainly her jealousy he was feeling.

He looked over at her in surprise, and she looked back, eyes remote. The kind of look she got when she was mad at something, but was rarely ever directed at him.

_ (“What was that?”) _ he asked.

_ (“You tell me,”)  _ she said.

“No twin speak at the table, I shouldn’t have to remind you all the bloody time,” said Herc as he came up to them, expertly balancing three trays. He set them down, not looking at either of them. Even though he seemed to forget they existed half the time, he apparently had enough presence of mind to leave the peas off of Max’s plate and put extra meat on Chuck’s. 

He didn’t look surprised, so Chuck supposed he hadn’t seen the brief exchange. This close the ghost-drift wasn’t strong, which meant it was fading between the two of them.

Their eyes still met though, and Herc’s foot slid forward until he was touching toes with Chuck. A motion that usually would make Chuck throw him off or spit some kind of warning, but he was so needy he let it go as he took his tray of food and picked up his fork.

It was confusing, and he wondered if it was for Max too. Wanting the two of them. He knew he ought to just want her, after all they’d been close all their lives. It was to each other they’d turned in their grief over losing their mother, when Herc had pulled away. It was always each other, when they’d started getting curious about sex, started realizing that it was more than love of family but also of something else, deeper and romantic. Consuming was a good way to put it.

He looked up at Herc, who was staring back at him. His dad’s toes pressed harder, and Chuck swallowed, his heart beating unevenly. Ever since their last brush with almost being caught by Herc he’d withdrawn with the two of them, and it was upsetting them both. He could tell.

Still, he tried to focus on his potatoes, eating mechanically, one leg pressed against Max’s, the other nudging against Herc’s. A half formed hope in his head that his dad meant something by it more than just comfort, especially when he nudged again and Herc responded in kind with a gentle rub.

The lights changed when he was mostly done his plate and he looked up as an alarm began to sound. He dropped his fork in response as people started getting up and the PA system went off, announcing movement in the Breach.

Without another thought, all three of them jumped up.

Time to worry later.

**

Getting suited up always sort of hurt in its own way. He was used to it, having done it every few weeks to do patrols, to do weapons and sync tests. But when he went off to kill a Kaiju, even when it was in his mother’s and Max’s name, he still felt guilty. Especially then, after he’d pulled on the relay suit and was getting ready to walk towards the conn pod, when he turned and looked into her eyes.

Eyes that looked just like mom’s. She seemed so sad, standing in the corner and wearing Herc’s Lucky Seven jacket, arms across her chest. She’d probably go up to LOCCENT soon, but for now she stood and watched.

When she realized she was staring though she forced a smile. “Hey. sixth kill today, yeah?”

Chuck nodded, standing up straighter. “Damn right.”

Jaegers were falling left and right, but Striker Eureka couldn’t be beat. She  _ couldn’t. _ Chuck would save the world if he had to.

He wanted to kiss her, to try and soothe her, but Herc was there. Everyone was there. So instead he pulled her into his chest, giving her a crushing hug. She let him hold her a moment before she tugged away.

“Go kill ‘im. I’ll have the grog and the rum cold when you get back. And make sure you bring back that jaeger in one piece!”

_ (“I love you,”) _ he said softly, before he stepped back, assuming a cockier stance, putting on a grin and giving her a wink. “Keep your hair on, Striker’ll come back safe and sound.”

_ (“Love you too,”)  _ she said, as Herc came over to give her a hug and she wished him luck too.

Unable to look, wondering why she’d seen this image of himself in Herc’s head that refused to get out of his own, he went to the exit, calling to his dad, telling him to stuff the sap and get his arse moving.

Herc joined him a minute later. “Don’t get cocky. Jaeger’s are always being added to Oblivion Bay. We could be next.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” muttered Chuck.

“I’m serious. If we want to see her again, if we want to stay strong and win this thing despite that useless piece of shit anti-kaiju wall, we can’t get over-confident. Aye?”

“Aye.”

**

The Category IV Kaiju, codenamed Hound, struck August 28th, 2024. Do to the wide path that Hound took, K-Sci had predicted a landing in New Zealand. Hound was a fast swimmer, almost as fast as the Kaiju Bonesquid. They encountered it in the Hauraki Gulf, just off of Waiheke Island in the Miracle Mile.

It was a brute, resembling its namesake only by walking on four legs. It was it’s tusks that were the problem, and it’s barrelling speed once it could touch bottom.

Despite damage to the left leg, which left Chuck a little reeling, but they still took down Hound in twenty minutes, their third best time.

Chuck was practically vibrating when he reached up to touch the comlink. “Striker to LOCCENT, Hound is down. Repeat, Hound is dead as a maggot.”

He and Herc grinned, as Commander Hershel told them to pack up, head to the coastline, and wait for pick up.

“We’ve got a pretty lady to get home to,” said Herc to Chuck, as they both turned and headed through the swath of carnage left by Hound for the ocean. “She’s probably worried sick about Striker.”

Chuck winced as they walked, his leg still damaged by a jab of tusks. His knee was going to be taking feedback until the drift was cut, he was sure. “Right.”

“You alright?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, old man.”

Herc didn’t reply, either in words or in his head. He felt the concern at least, but Herc had this unusual talent of keeping completely silent in the drift when he wanted to. It made the curious picture that Max had caught in Herc’s head all the more puzzling, because if Herc didn’t  _ want _ you to find something, you wouldn’t. They were the only team that had never chased the RABIT before, simply because Herc was grounding enough not to allow it.

Waiting for pick-up happened in silence, with Chuck ensuring to focus on nothing but the now even as his curiosity worked away in the back of his mind, so quiet it was almost subconscious.

**

_ Ain’t no party like a Shatterdome party, _ thought Chuck, after his sixth shot of tequila. His mouth was burning and he had a VB Stubby in his left hand as he put the shot glass down, licking salt from his lips.

“Shit is foul,” he said, before grinning at the pilots of Matador Fury, Eduardo Dominguez and Juan Carlos Hernandez. “Seriously, you Mexican’s are made of something tough.”

One of them said something in Spanish that cracked them both up.

“I have no idea what you just said,” said Chuck, grinning, “but I like you anyway.”

Eduardo shook his head, eyes dancing. “He was just saying you aussie’s can’t hold your liquor. You’re ready to fall down, my friend.”

“Fuck that,” he raised a fist and bumped it on the table. “Pour out another.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” said Eduardo, pouring another round. 

Chuck slammed it back, blew out a breath and laughed again, before he turned in his seat to take a look around. 

They were all in the mess hall, a few people were dancing on tables to Beastie Boys, Herc was laughing with the pilot’s of Vulcan Spectre, and in the middle of a group Max was dancing in circles with one of the girls from LOCCENT.

Tapping his fingers he got up, putting one foot in front of the other. Juan Carlos laughed at him, clapped him on the back, and he waved his hand as he took a couple more steps, these more steady.

“You running away already?” 

“Banyo,” he replied, with a wave.

The closest place was a bit of a walk, and he made his way there sipping his beer and occasionally putting his hand up to the wall. His knee ached still from the Jaeger feedback and he limped a little as he found the lavatory. 

He put the stubby down on the sink and went to the urinal, thinking about the way Max had been swaying around with the LOCCENT girl whose name Chuck couldn’t think of off hand. She looked hot, rocking her hips, holding her bottle - fucking  _ bottle _ \- of cab sav above her head.

Smirking, he fished out his phone as used the bathroom, sending her a text.

_ Text: If you guess right what’s in my hand, you can have it all night. _

With a little chuckle at his own cleverness he pushed his phone away, shook off and zipped up. He stopped to wash his hands, check his hair in the mirror, and glanced reflexively to see the shadow someone coming in.

For a split second he expected Max, but it was Herc, who was carrying his own beer. He set it on the counter next to Chuck’s and went to a urinal.

He nodded at him, going back to his hair.

“You look fine, sprog,” said Herc, as Chuck tried to spike his hair with a bit of water.

“Just want to look good.”

His phone vibrated.  _ Text: Mmm. Pics? _

He grinned, waiting for Herc to leave. He snapped the phone off when his dad came to wash his hands, stepping aside for him.

“You do look good,” said Herc, when he was done, and he picked up his bottle, taking a swig. He licked his lips, and Chuck watched the push of his tongue. He was half thinking about Max. About what he’d do with her later that night, sneaking out when Herc was passed out. Fucking her somewhere hard and deep until she came screaming around him. But he was drunk enough that he was easily distracted enough by that freckle on his dad’s lip, that mouth he wanted to kiss.

“Glad you think so, ya poofter,” he grinned, to show he was joking, and gave his dad a little salute, meaning to go by.

But Herc stepped into his space, one hand finding Chuck’s arm to stop him. He took another pull on his beer, eyes on Chuck while he did it. He finished it with a sigh, his thumb working slow circles against Chuck’s arm, making trills of sensation dance up and down Chuck’s muscles.

“You want something,” he said, putting it down. Was Chuck imagining things, or was Herc staring at Chuck’s mouth, did he look like he was  _ longing  _ for something?

“More like you do,” said Chuck, finishing his own beer, tapping the neck with one finger. Had to think of Max, especially considering his phone was vibrating again in his pocket. He couldn’t be thinking about how badly he’s wanted for  _ years _ to kiss his own father, or get on his knees for him. Couldn’t do that to his sister. “Spit it out.”

Herc took Chuck’s bottle away, sliding it onto the counter before he surged forward with one quick movement. It was everything Chuck’s brain fantasized about, the power of his dad’s body pushing him into the wall. The way he moved his body down just enough to push up into Chuck’s lips, to use his arms and chest to lever Chuck up a few inches. 

He whimpered, when Herc pulled away for a second, his teeth grazing over Chuck’s lips, a hand hooking under Chuck’s leg to bring it up and around his dad’s waist, the other fisting in his hair.

_ “God,” _ he breathed, just before Herc’s mouth covered his again, pushing his lips apart, tongue sliding against Chuck’s.

His own hands were fisted in Herc’s shirt, squeezing tight. He rocked his hips forward once, feeling blood surge downward as he started to get hard. And Herc - Herc already was. He could feel the line of his dad’s cock pressing against his hip, like steel in his jeans. Chuck could hardly believe how big he was hard as he reached down to put his fingers around the head of his cock in an experimental tug, making Herc growl into his mouth.

They pulled away a moment, eyes meeting. He was getting ready to slide down and get his mouth on Herc when he remembered  _ Max. _

Max who was expecting pics, Chuck’s attention. Who Chuck was  _ positive _ would be jealous over what he was doing right then and there. Who was probably lying when she said she was okay so long as she joined in.

“I -” he said, trying to catch his breath, “dad…”

“Don’t think. We both want this.”

Chuck shuddered as he was caught up in another kiss. His dad kissed so  _ well, _ so controlling it made Chuck completely weak in the knees as his erection throbbed in his pants. 

_ It’ll be easy, _ he thought, looking into Herc’s eyes again as he flicked his tongue against Herc’s,  _ just let go. _

“Just don’t tell Max,” said Herc gruffly, jarring Chuck again.

He reached up and pushed until Herc was arms length away. “Exactly why we can’t.”

Herc didn’t seem to expect a no, or that that was why. Sure, they’d seen plenty of things in each other’s heads. Apparently Herc had known all along that Chuck was hot for his own dad, wanted to get on his back for him. He dreamt of it as much as he dreamt of Max sometimes, fucking after a drift. He was desperate for that kind of connection, one where he and dad didn’t even need to talk anymore. Where they could just kiss hard like they were before.

But  _ Max. _

Max was everything to Chuck.

“I thought you wanted this,” said Herc, uncertain. “Sometimes, when we drift, you seem like-”

“I do,” he said helplessly.

“Well?” Herc was still confused.

“I,” he blew out a hard breath, reminding himself to think of Max. He  _ had _ to think of her. “I dunno.”

“Then let me make it easy for you. Make it like the drift. Don’t think. It’ll be as natural as breathing.”

Just like it was with Max, he was sure. To sink into Herc’s arms and let him take over would be a sweet kind of release. As much as he loved act as if he was completely in control, to spit about how his dad had all but abandoned the two of them, the things he wanted went a lot deeper than that.

Herc leaned in again, his lips rough on Chuck’s but moving softer.

**

It was never fun, waiting on the outside and watching everything that happened. Even though she didn’t much have a place in LOCCENT when Striker was deployed - Commander Hershel hated her special treatment - she always found a way to stand in and watch what was happening while news feeds went live on her tablet.

Hound had been a big ugly thing too, and when he’d attacked she’d almost panicked at the way the left side buckled under a blow from its massive tusks, and Tendo had reached out and held her hand until Striker had won out.

They were alive. Kill number six. Sometimes she wished they drifted like the Wei Triplets, so she could feel that high.

But she still got to be one of the centers of attention at the after party. Chuck would never have allowed anything less, and he dragged her through a few shots with Matador Fury’s crew before she’d wandered off and gotten a bottle of wine from Kim Cho. 

Now, though. Now she just wanted Chuck, especially with his promise she’d get him in the sack later. She was impatient with waiting after about fifteen minutes. Max had sent a few text messages asking Chuck if he needed help finding himself. When he hadn’t answered the third she took her bottle of wine and started off where she’d seen him go, supposing he’d had to use the dunny.

Pleasantly drunk, enjoying her walk, she meandered down the hall. Sure she had plenty of work to do tomorrow. Striker’s leg wasn’t going to fix itself. But she was in the now, wanting nothing more than to party. She wanted to dance with Chuck, get down and dirty with him. Just thinking about grinding on him had her getting wet, and she was blushing as she took another swig.

The shatterdome was pleasantly cool as she walked, and she hummed a song by Wolfmother as she went, starting to unzip her coveralls. She could imagine it, Chuck in the washroom taking pictures of himself, and she’d walk in and get down on her knees, grin up at him before sucking him down. Then they’d have sex on the bathroom floor where they could easily get caught. She knew she’d come in a scant few minutes by the threat alone.

She finished off the wine and set the bottle aside, wiggling her hips, shaking her hair out of its braid. A glance left and right told her she was alone, and she was about to call his name when Chuck appeared. 

“Hey you,” she said, smiling and sauntering up, but she stopped when she looked up him up and down. He was flushed, obviously solid in his jeans, and looked almost… upset. “You start without-”

She went quiet as Herc followed. He saw her and his eyes went unreadable before they swept to Chuck. Chuck looked between them both for a moment before he turned, heading further down the corridor, towards the elevator, leaving her and Herc alone.

_ Did they...? _

She glanced down on reflex, saw Herc’s arousal, and had to swallow down a bolt of her own before her feelings caught up with everything as the situation started to catch up with her drunken brain.

She felt left out and hollow as everything processed with her. Because she was… hurt. She wasn’t sure  _ why. _ She honestly had expected Herc and Chuck to finally kiss a lot sooner than this.

But she was hurt regardless. Because it was something else between the two of them that she couldn’t really tap into. She didn’t really factor in that she was with Chuck, she just kept thinking about how much she wanted to be a part of  _ that, _ not have her dad a part of  _ them. _ It felt like exclusion all over again.

Max licked her lips, zipping up her coveralls, and stepping back. She felt vulnerable. She wanted to run too.

“Max…”

She shook her head and forced a smile that felt angular and ugly on her face. “Pash’n’dash?”

“Max, it’s not-”

“It is,” she laughed, but it was an unhappy sound, even to her own ears. “He’s not okay, is he?”

She looked up, afraid of what she might see. Herc just seemed defeated. That same old expression on his face, where nothing ever seemed to go his way. She’d seen it when the two of them had pulled away after their mother had died, she’d seen it on occasions where they’d all fought like cats and dogs. It was no different now.

Shaking his head, he let out a sigh. “No. I don’t think the lad is.”

“Thought so,” she said softly, starting to walk backwards in the same direction Chuck had taken off. “But hey. Something else I’m out of, right?”

She wasn’t crying, when she turned around and walked away. But she felt like she ought to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Her eyes were on the lights above the elevator door. She was wringing her hands from anxiety, thinking about Chuck running off. Thinking about Herc. About how damn hurt  _ she _ felt. She didn't even really want to follow, because it wasn't like there was someone who was available to comfort  _ her. _

The elevator dinged, and the doors began to open.

“Max.”

The voice brought her up short and she paused, about to go inside. It was dad, and he sounded so... defeated. He hadn't sounded like that since he'd first brought them to the army run refugee center, apologizing about mom as a mushroom cloud hung above Sydney, slowly dissipating from the wind.

She turned to look back at him standing in the center of the hallway, music thudding from the mess, reverberating dully. She knew she should say something else, but nothing was forthcoming. The elevator doors shut.

“It's not like you think,” he said.

She swallowed hard. “How do you know I think anything at all?”

“Because I've been in your head.”

She stepped back towards Herc, her mouth opening to say something more. She couldn't quite tell what yet, words were failing her, but Max figured it might be something cutting. Something to make him go away, make him feel how low she felt. Her eyes were getting misty as she looked up at him lip trembling a little, not sure if she wanted to accuse him of something.

His eyes were so blue, so guilty, as he reached up and cupped her bicep, holding her in place.

“Max, about you and Chuck...”

“What about us?” she said, her voice trembling, fear starting to clench her stomach. Had they not been careful enough, to hide?

“I... you both mean so much. And with Chuck, I-”

“OI! HANSEN!” The words cut straight across whatever he was trying to say. “Get your ass back here,” called Tendo, he was laughing.

The sound of his voice made Herc flinch, hand dropping, and he looked back down the hall. “Keep your hair on, Choi!”

The spell broken, she started to back up from him. “I need to go make sure Chuck is okay.”

“Right.” There was that defeated sound again, as she gave him one last look before she turned back to the elevators.

Max got back to their room feeling a lot more sober. What had Herc wanted to say to her, about the two of them? She knew she didn't want to know what he felt about Chuck. Probably had something to do with the drift, that  _ taboo _ that everyone knew about between related drift partners but no one ever spoke of. And she was afraid of what Chuck might say. That he wanted dad more than her,  _ because  _ of that reason.

She knew, as she stared at the door, she could go to someone else's room for the night and wallow in self pity.

But he was Chuck. He was her twin, she loved him more than anything, and he was hurting. So she went.

Max turned the handle and pushed inside, knowing that even if he’d managed to fall asleep the grating sound of the door would have woken him up. The room was dark, except for a small yellow light by the kaiju advisory screen. With a little push she shoved the door back into place and turned the wheel until the locks engaged.

“Chuck?” she asked, walking towards her bunk, where she could see the fuzz of his hair on the pillow, his slow breathing under the blankets.

He didn’t answer so she unzipped her coveralls and stepped out of them before peeling off her halter top and shorts, dropping them into a little pile. As far as she was concerned, Herc could find out how close they were. He’d just made a move on Chuck, so why keep it a secret any longer. Despite wanting them all three to be together, a little voice inside of her muttered  _ I was here first. _

She lifted the covers and slipped into the small space left for her, pressing against Chuck’s naked back. He was burning under the covers, and she curled against him as best she could.

“Chuckie?” she murmured, stroking her hand down his stomach, trying to keep her voice soothing. “If you want to talk I’m here. I know you’re awake.”

He sighed but didn’t say anything right away, so she just stroked his stomach.

“There’s nothing to say,” he said finally. “I didn’t go through with it because of you.”

She had a feeling that had been the case. Despite her insistence that she’d be okay with it sometimes, she knew she wasn’t. Not if she was kept out. And so far she’d only seen hints that Herc wanted Chuck, his drift partner. Sometimes she wished she was just a normal civilian so she wouldn’t have to deal with the feelings of inadequacy.

“Do you ever want him more than me?”

Chuck sagged a moment, before he rolled in her arms, nearly upsetting her from the bed. His eyes reflected the night light by the screen, it was all of him that she could make out clearly. “No.”

“You want us the same.”

“Does it make you mad?”

“No. Because you chose me.”

“I did choose you.” He leaned in, pausing for a moment before her lips, like he’d remembered something. Like he thought he wasn’t allowed. So she closed the gap for him and let her eyes fall shut as she shared a slow kiss with him. When they pulled away she sighed. She wanted to sleep and forget about it all.

“Do you want dad?”

“You know I do,” she replied, opening her eyes reluctantly. “But he made his choice.” She wasn't so sure, though. The look in his eyes, the touch to her arm, had her confused.

“So he should make only one, when we can make two?”

“You really think he might choose us both?”

“Only one way for you to find out.”

She was about to reply when the lock on the door grated. She hadn’t expected Herc back, and wasn’t about to move. He’d made a move on Chuck, he could deal with the two of them. It wasn’t like it was any more taboo.

But Chuck got up, quick as a flash, and left her alone. He blew a kiss as the door started to swing open, and a moment later in the light from the door she watched Chuck haul himself up onto the top bunk above Herc.

She closed her eyes as Herc stood in the door, watching, and after a moment he came inside. The door squealed, and Max listened as clothes hit the floor and Herc tried to get comfortable on his mattress. But she knew that no one was sleeping, as she listened for a change in breathing.

**

Max shuddered, twisting to the side like she might avoid a mental blow that way. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to focus on stabilizing the drift and ignore the feelings -  _ guilt, hurt, guilt -  _ that were coming through the link between the two of them.

The LOCCENT officer conducting the sync test was talking, but Max couldn’t hear him. She was trying to bring herself back into alignment, even though the feelings that were weighing heavy on her heart were making things difficult. She could feel her father’s ever-present depression pushing down on her, making it harder and harder to see the  _ point _ in coming back into alignment.

“You two are going to break drift if you don’t get back on your feet,” he warned, and Max grit her teeth and straightened up.

_ Silence. Give him silence. _

She breathed out at the same moment Herc did. She could feel the drift stabilizing, no memories slipping through, the feelings starting to get dull and distant as they existed in the now.

“Good,” said the tech. “I think that’s enough for the day. Why don’t we try again Wednesday at 0800 hours.”

“Yes sir,” they both said in sync.

The drift terminated on a countdown, and Max breathed a sigh of relief to be back in her own head with her own problems. She pulled off the pons, glad she hadn’t had to go through her Jodo forms. She was feeling weak and sweaty enough trying to coincide with her dad that day anyway.

He was out the door in a moment, disappearing and leaving her behind. She felt sort of hollow to watch him whisk off without so much as a goodbye, but she was getting used to it by now.

It had been two weeks of this. Two weeks of long, uncomfortable silences between all three of them. Max had been kept busy at least, since Hound had done a lot of damage to Striker with it’s head butting, and she’d pulled more than a few all-nighters. This was the first sync test since the attack. The clock was ticking down, the next Kaiju due in a few weeks.

And she - they’d both - failed. She wondered what the commander would think of that, as she left the room after her dad and went to her things, folded neatly on a bench. She was wearing cargos and a tank-top, bare foot, and she ignored her dad as she laced her boots and pulled on a thin athletic hoodie, waiting for Herc to leave and Chuck to enter with Rupert.

Sure enough, the second the door opened there was a woof and she smiled as Rupert ran to her side, putting his paws up on her knee and leaning in for head scratches.

“Where do you think you're going?” demanded Chuck.

She looked up from the dog to see Chuck blocking the way out the door. Herc was dressed, looking at Chuck with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Out of my way,” said Herc, his tone warning.

“Did you forget today?” said Chuck. “We always go to the shooting range, and we missed last Monday.”

Herc sighed, shooting a glance at Max. She wanted to tell Chuck no, that it was fine. If Herc wanted to swan off it was his call. Even if it had become something of a tradition once a week, she could understand Herc just wanting to avoid them both.

“I'll meet you down there in twenty, okay?” he said after a moment.

Surprised, Max sat up a little straighter, watching Chuck give a little nod of his head, stepping aside. A moment later they were alone.

“Think he'll show?” she asked, still petting Rupert.

“He will. I think he wants us to forgive him.”

She got up, shifting the dog to the ground, and walked over to Chuck, lacing her hand in his a moment. “I think so too. He was pretty guilty in the drift today.”

“Figured as much. Bit shite, you two.”

“Fuck off.” She smiled anyway though.

As promised, Herc met them down at the firing range. They'd dropped Rupert off in the room, so it was just the two of them waiting when Herc arrived looking a little apprehensive.

“We'll be running simulation tomorrow,” he said, looking at Max. “Commander Hershel isn't pleased with our drifting today.”

“And let me guess, he blames me.” She knew Hershel didn't like her for some reason. It was an old military mindset she supposed, that women shouldn't be pilots or fighters. He liked them non-combat, which might explain why he tended to greater animosity to the female pilots of visiting Jaegers.

Herc didn't reply, but she read it in his face.

“And for that, I get the F88,” she said, picking up the rifle. “Person with the most missed shots buys the booze next time we get leave.”

Herc, easily the best of the three of them, picked up an M4A5 Carbine. He was most familiar with the weapon, having used it in the past when he'd worked in the SOCOM units, and tended to start with it before moving onto handguns. “I'll take that bet.”

“You'll be buying me some expensive shots then,” said Chuck, who picked up a Browning GP-35. Everything that the Shatterdome had was used by the Australian Defence Force, and a lot of it was older, putting more stock into Tech for Jaegers than guns for the MP's and security details.

It was good, raising the gun and looking down the sights. Trying to keep calm, she breathed out as she focused on the target, kept her eyes open and shot.

She knew she was too jealous, most of the time, for the two of them. But when they were like this, just spending time with the three of them, it was a little easier.

Herc unloaded his clip first, and made a quick round to check on the two of them. Chuck so far had missed one shot, and Herc and Max had closer groupings. Max could imagine him muttering when Herc checked on him, and she stood a little straighter when he came into her booth.

“Hold it up straighter, that's it,” he put his hand on her back, “you're too tense.”

Max breathed out, squeezing the trigger, and another shot struck the heart of the target. “That's good, honey,” said Herc, his hand drifting lower to the small of her back and giving a small rub that send a zing of sensation through her.

_ Hard to concentrate with you doing that, _ she thought, but she turned and gave him a smile.

He smiled back at her.  _ All forgiven _ , was what she read there, and she wanted to put her gun down and kiss him. It was an irrational thought, considering she didn't know what was going on in that head, but shooting lessons that devolved into something more was one of her fantasies.

He left a moment later and she turned back to the target, deciding to get herself under control before she messed up and had to buy Chuck all kinds of expensive drinks.

She figured on one thing though, as she let out a little breath and adjusted her stance, raising the assault rifle again. She'd do what her brother had suggested she do a few weeks ago. She was going to seduce her dad.

**

That night it was hard to sleep. Unable to turn her brain off, Max's mind was going over different tactics she could pull with Herc, anything to get him to see her as more than just a daughter, or at least find out if he saw her like that. She went over the conversation, as brief as it had been, in front of the elevators.

_ What had he been wanting to say? _

Silent, she got out of bed to go to the bathroom, splash a bit of water on her face. She had to relax. After screwing up drift that day the next drift was crucial. Was it such a good idea, to try and chase the RABIT with her dad? It was one of the only ways she could think to figure out how he felt.

He'd never let her. What brittle forgiveness they had would probably be broken if she betrayed his trust. He'd probably figure out her intentions in a few moments and if she was nothing but a daughter in his eyes that would be it. She'd be damned.

_ But what if he chases the RABIT? _ She wondered, as she toweled water off of her face.

It was an idea.

She jumped when the door opened wider. Herc was there, wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants. He blinked at her. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why?” she said, looking down at the taps.

“You're rolling around and keeping me up. Is it about the drift tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she said, which was half true.

He nodded. “Don't be worried. We've got this.”

“Do we?” Sometimes she wondered about their drift compatibility. It was undeniably there, but Chuck had the edge over her. Sometimes she wondered if Herc had thrown the match-up. Otherwise the three of them could be piloting together, sort of like Crimson Typhoon.

“We do.” He stepped in the bathroom and reached up, carding his fingers through her hair. “Today...”

She shivered, pleasantly aware of his body. How warm she felt, even when she was standing there in one of Herc's loose shirts and a pair of panties. “Today we were shit.”

“Yeah.”

She peeked her eyes open, looking up at him. He was looking at her in a way that made her breath catch a little bit. Like she was something more. Something he might want. But then he dropped his hand and broke the spell.

“Can I use the loo?”

“Sure,” she said, “I'm all done.”

“Just relax about tomorrow. We've got it. One bad day does not mean we're incompatible.”

Max smiled. “Yeah. Night, dad.”

“Night.”

**

A bundle of nerves, Max put on the PONS. They were going to go through their kata's like they were supposed to the previous day. Normally they were to go through their Kali forms, but lately Jojutsu was popular. With Striker maintained, she was attending fighting classes again with the two of them, and wore more than a few bruises from being hit with a bo, and they wanted to see the physical match up.

“You ready?” asked Herc, picking up his own PONS. She looked him up and down, dressed in his cargos and a tight white tank, feet bare on the mat. He looked too good to be allowed, and she tried not to let her eyes linger on the way the fabric was pulled taut over his chest.

“Yeah I am,” she said, picking up a red bo from the stand to her left. She twirled it in her hands a moment before settling one end on the mat.

“Good,” said Tendo, over the intercom. She wondered if he drew a short straw, to be involved in their drills today. “We're going to be drifting for thirty minutes today. Initiating neural handshake in ten seconds.”

They smiled at each other before she looked away and closed her eyes, blowing out a short breath. She had to focus, had to do this just right, as Tendo's voice counted down to one.

The blue lights crackled past her, a myriad of pictures like frames in a movie scrolling past. She knew not to hold onto anything, but she couldn't help but try to isolate one image. Namely, she saw a brief flash of Chuck looking up at Herc with want in his eyes again, this one  _ real  _ and not just a fantasy. It didn't stay very long, she knew she had to let it go if she wanted the drift to stabilize. Her own memories though – like ones of the previous morning, meeting Chuck in private – caught up to real time. She knew Herc had seen something, just not  _ what _ he'd seen.

“Heart rate's a little high, but you’re stabilizing well,” said Tendo. She wondered whose heart rate was up.

Her dad was just  _ there, _ all around her, and she felt like she was being wrapped in a warm blanket. Gone were the feelings of guilt. She smiled and the two of them looked at each other in their minds eyes, idealized versions of themselves squaring off in the Kwoon. Seeing Herc staring with such determination made her heart flutter a moment before everything went dark and quiet.

“Drift is holding,” said Tendo, and both of them took their first stance. “You can begin.”

Each motion was fluid and precise. She got lost in it, the feeling of taking breaths along with him, how their muscles moved the same, their feet found spots on the mat at the same time, each strike in unison.

_ You're doing well. _

She smiled at the praise. It was like he was trying to make up for lost time, or put her more at ease. There was an edge of guilt there still, like he was afraid of something.

_ What is it? _

_ Nothing. _

She wondered if that were true. Max tried to let the wordless question fade, but in spite of herself she could feel herself probing at Herc like she wanted to be let in on a secret. The drift stuttered a moment, Herc pressing reflexively back.

_ None of that now. _

_ It was an accident. _

He didn't reply, and she thought that might have been that, but then he showed her an image he'd seen when the handshake had happened. Chuck again, looking needy, but it went deeper. The feelings were raw and powerful and it made her shake.

“Careful you two, you're going out of sequence,” Tendo warned.

She looked at Herc at the same moment, feeling heat in her stomach. She needed to know how he felt. She knew how he felt about _ Chuck, _ just not her, and it wasn't fair. So she licked her lips, focused back on her kata's, and returned an image of her own. Last night, when she'd stood before her dad in nothing but a shirt and panties.

Her own heart was starting to hammer out of control and she thought she felt a longing that wasn't her own, but then Herc's guilt was back, pushing against her.

_ Don't you dare, _ she thought at him, a few tears, whether frustration or exertion, were blurring her eyes.

Their next blows were weak, slow.

_ What do you want from me? _

_ I don't know. _

She was lying, and she knew Herc knew it. That was when he pushed, and in a moment he was completely inside her head. They both stopped moving, and she felt the smooth wood of the bo slip from her hands, rattling against the mat. Tendo was saying something about the RABIT, but she didn't hear it as her feelings were laid bare.

_ An image of Chuck appeared again, she was standing there as Herc crushed his mouth against Chuck's in the bathroom. Heat was flooding her system, she felt herself getting tight just to see them grasping at each other, panting, the raw need there. _

_ Jealousy, though, wasn't far from arousal. She felt Herc's surprise at that, as another memory appeared. It only had a second to form, but it was enough to out the two of them. Chuck looking into Max's face as he pushed inside of her, the two of them clinging to each other. _

_ She opened her eyes and saw Herc standing there, barefoot and in shock, like this possibility had never occurred to him. So she pressed against the memory, holding out her hand to him. A plea for him to join them was all around. And she knew how easy it would be for him to just walk right over. _

_ Because he wanted it. Wanted them both. _

Like it had never happened, the two of them had stabilized and were picking up their staves. She stepped back at the same time, feeling uncomfortably aroused. Her nipples were hard, poking at the fabric of her tanktop, and she was getting wet at just the thought of Herc joining her and Chuck. And she didn't need to glance to know that Herc had a semi in his cargoes. That he was getting hard at the thought of all of them together.

“Heart rate and blood pressure is still a little high,” said Tendo, “but excellent job at shaking that off. 1.5 seconds.”

It had felt like so much longer, and it was in a dream that they finished the test with a 93.4. She felt alone when the drift cut out and she removed the PONS. She was merely nodding along to whatever Tendo was saying.

She had half expected Herc to take her hand, or want to talk to her.

Not the same behavior as the day before,  _ guilt and worry _ ghost drifting into her head as Herc left the room in a hurry, leaving her standing alone and confused.

Panic made her turn and bolt after him. He was pushing his feet into his boots when she all but tackled him, arms going around his shoulders.

“Maxine,” he warned, but she squeezed, letting her weight drop into an anchor.

“Don’t  _ run,” _ she said, because they didn’t have long before there’d be witnesses, and she wasn’t sure how long she’d keep from crying at being rejected yet again.

“It’s not that easy,” he said, his hands coming up to curl around her wrists, but he didn’t fight her or push her away just yet.

“It was with Chuck! Why can’t it, with both of us?”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. She felt  _ defeat _ through the drift.

“Daddy please,” she said, “just… talk to me.”

“Soon, okay?” he said, gently moving her hands until he could stand up straight. He turned to face her. “We’ll talk soon, when I’m ready. We all have to be ready, okay?”

She nodded, looking down at her feet as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah I hope this was okay. Dang it Hansen's, stop being so bloody difficult!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another scoop of Hansen Family Drama

It had been a week and a half since Herc had left the ‘Dome for a budget meeting Stacker had invited him to, the reason somewhere along the lines of wanting Herc’s opinion, as the senior-most Ranger. Herc didn’t mind, though he could do without Stacker suggesting occasionally for Herc to get out of the conn-pod and take on a more administrative approach. 

A wobble made him open his eyes, wincing a little as the light became apparent, shooting a bolt of pain to the back of his skull. Below him the Shatterdome spread out, a cold monument to the war dominating the once beautiful coastline. 

“Almost there, Ranger Hansen,” said one of the ones Herc was travelling with. He grunted into the headset by way of reply.

He might have liked a few more hours sleep, but he was glad to see her again getting closer. It was like a weight off the chest. The clock was ticking steadily away to the next breach, and while he knew logically he had two days left he was still worrying about Professor Gottlieb’s math. He’d hardly slept, what with worrying that a Kaiju Alert could have gone off while he was too far away to do anything about it.

They touched down, the helipad in relative shade as the sun dropped behind the west side of the Shatterdome. Herc stepped out of the helicopter and breathed in the scent of home. The smell of oil and machinery,  the wet vegetation smell of the shore, of pavement and tar baking in the sun. It was good to be home. 

“Ranger Hansen,” said Commander Hershal, distracting him from his thoughts. The commander was standing to one side and gave him a quick salute as Herc walked out from under the spinning blades.

Herc saluted him back, the motion a little more casual. He was tired, the eleven hour flight mixed with the short hop from the closest airstrip and a two hour time difference had him ready to just roll over and collapse on the first reasonable flat surface.

“All quiet?” he asked, thinking about his kids, who he’d left in charge of Striker in his absence. Had the Breach dilated, it would have been the twins deploying without him. He was more than a little glad he was home now, where it wouldn’t be Max’s duty.

“Quiet enough,” said Hershal. “Few squabbles here and there.”

Herc looked over, raising an eyebrow. The unasked question about Max and Chuck’s temper.

“No, not them. They kept themselves to themselves.”

He nodded, refraining from comment. He just bet they were keeping to themselves.  _ Without me around they’ve probably been getting up to all kinds of things to themselves, _ he thought, not sure how he was feeling about it. Whether it was jealousy and envy or the horrible realization he’d completely failed as a father.

He dropped off a hefty manila envelope full of the latest facts and figures about where the money was going, the budget cuts. It was the same old information. The PPDC Security Council was putting more and more stock into the Anti-Kaiju Wall than boosting the Jaeger program. No new Jaeger’s were in production, and there was only the thinnest portion going to restoration to the Jaeger’s left in Oblivion Bay.

“Anchorage is going to be shut down?” Hershal asked. He’d taken on an ashy pallor, his eyes wide as he read further. It was the first steps to the fear everyone would be facing before long.

The losing end of the war.

“October twelfth. Then Lima, on the eighteenth.” Herc was looking down at his hand on the door latch.

He thought he heard Hershel say something like ‘God help us.’ Herc took it as a dismissal and let himself out into the hall, heading towards the dormitories. 

As he walked he tried to focus on what he had to do, not on what he wanted to do. What he wanted was sleep, to forget everything with Max and that their last drift had ever happened, and maybe have a few very strong drinks. It would be easier than confronting how much of a terrible father he was.

He heard the music coming from their room before he got there. It sounded like they’d broken into his old mix CD’s, and when he stopped outside their door he could hear The Beastie Boys screaming about sabotage. Herc could still remember when they’d first found all his old mixes, heckling him for liking such out of date music, before they’d properly gotten into them. Now they were just as much of fans of the old classic rock as he was.

Music that loud though, hard to say what the two of them were getting up to. Could be a new project, or…

Herc flushed, thinking about that brief mental flash of Chuck slowly pushing inside Max. The way her long legs had been hooked around his hips, hair undone and spread under her in a red wave of curls. And her begging green eyes looking into his own. Desperately reaching for him with that  _ need _ broadcasting out of her.

Thinking of it lead to other mental images he vehemently tried to deny to himself ever having. Images of slowly kissing her throat, of burying his hands in her hair. Fantasies of his fingers stroking along her sides where the relay suit would never - if he had anything to say about it - be burned into her skin.

Herc closed his eyes, gave his head a small shake, and decided he couldn’t deal with this. He couldn’t open that door and see what was on the other side. Didn’t want to walk in on them and their moments of intimacy. Because more than jealousy was the stunning realization that his children had been sleeping together - probably for years - and he’d been so tuned into the PPDC and away from them that he’d just  _ never noticed. _

That decided, figuring he could head down to the tech dorms and crash with one of them while he tried to figure out what to do, he turned away from the door as the song switched to a tune by Wolfmother. 

“Hey.”

Herc’s few steps came to a halt. He’d been caught.

He turned to see Chuck standing there. He looked messy. Not sex-messy, but like he’d been junking around with something. He was wearing his most ruined pair of jeans and one of Herc’s oldest shirts, something full of holes that Herc wore when he was doing repairs with them.

“You get back what, twenty minutes ago, and you’re buggering off before you can put your bag away?” the boy asked, putting his hands on his hips.

It was little motions like that which reminded Herc of Angela the most. He sighed, fingers pulling on the strap of his duffel bag. “Figured you two might be busy and I want to catch some shut eye.”

“We can turn the music off.”

“I know.” He was still looking at Chuck warily, wondering how much Max may have told him about their last drift together.

Chuck walked past him though and slid his passcard down the lock. With a metallic groan Chuck opened the door with a turn of the wheel. The music raised in pitch along with the sound of someone singing and Rupert barking. Herc dawdled on the edge of of the steps before he forced himself to walk up and into the room.

The middle of the room was organized chaos. It looked like a computer, or several, had been taken apart. Each screw, microchip and wire was in a grid with small plastic hardware boxes over concrete floor and dancing in the middle wearing a pair of rainbow boy shorts and a tied back Iron Man T-Shirt was Max. She was singing into a screwdriver, hair done up and obviously not wearing a bra.

Involuntarily his face flushed and he looked down, throwing his duffel bag at his bottom bunk. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as Chuck said “volume down,” and the music system responded, bringing it to a low volume.

“What’s the deal - oh.”

_ Oh. _ He liked that, being relegated to an ‘oh.’ Scrubbing a hand over his face he tried to supplant the image of Max bouncing around with something tamer as Rupert came up and started slobbering all over his shoes.

“So how’d the conference go?” Max’s tone had changed to perky and happy, what Herc was more used to. 

He turned around to see her pulling a drawstring on athletic sweatpants and he gave a little shrug, a sad smile, and then sat down on the bed. 

“That bad?”

“I’d say classified but you two will read it in the news in a few days. Anchorage is done. Lima’s next. There are others up on the chopping block.”

“Sydney?” Chuck’s voice sounded small, which was strange. Chuck was never so quiet.

“Not yet.”

Max fiddled with the screwdriver before she leaned down and started to clean up. “Well, they can’t. Striker is all that’s keeping the world alive. That and Cherno. So they can’t.”

Herc wished he could agree as she and Chuck tucked the bits of computer away into storage bins. After a moment he unlaced his boots and kicked them off. Everything - including seeing Max act so flippantly when he knew what kind of storm was brewing in there - had Herc exhausted. He wanted to sleep forever. Fuck the war, fuck everything.

“We’ll leave you to it,” said Max, when everything was cleared away and Herc was down to just his skivvies.

The light went out and Herc lay down in his bunk. As tired as he was though, and even with Rupert warming his feet, Herc couldn’t stop staring at the springs above him and wondering what was going on in his kids’ heads. Not just in Max’s, but in Chuck’s. They’d had Christmas’ there, turkey dinners in the mess. Birthdays out on the sun deck, easter egg hunts in the empty Jaeger bays.

“I’m such a failure of a fucking father,” he muttered.

Rupert snorted and enclosed drool-wet jowls over Herc’s big toe, as if he disagreed.

**

He didn’t know when he woke up, just that he knew he’d slept too long. Normally all he could manage was a solid six hours, and it was getting worse the older he got. Insomnia wasn’t an option, in Herc’s eyes, so he usually took things to knock it out. The PPDC had wonderful drugs to combat everything from depression, anxiety, the usual PTSD symptoms, as well as the nightmares and sleeplessness. He hadn’t taken them, though.

Could be why he woke up in a cold sweat with the vague impression he’d just stood there and watched his kids go off to die.

Images - vague, blurry things, where he’d become the Marshal and could no longer pilot - prickled about in his head as he pulled his feet out from under Rupert and padded over to the bathroom, pushing the heavy door out of the way. Yellow night lights gave the little room an odd cast, glinting off the stainless steel sink as he turned the water on and splashed himself. 

“Feel like shit,” he muttered.

In the other room, Rupert’s collar clinked against his metal dish as he began to slurp down water. 

He headed back in and filled Rupert’s food dish before he turned on the computer screen in their excuse of a kitchenette. The PPDC logo flashed before time, date, news and weather popped up. He’d been out for about eight hours and it was two in the morning. 

In the light of the computer he could see a little packaged tray of food from the mess. There was even a big bottle of that ‘Kaiju Piss’ - as it was so fondly known by staff - that the PPDC made which was full of vitamins and electrolytes and stimulants. The juice was for when an alert came in the middle of the night and not casual use, but most people abused it. Herc didn’t like the stuff. It tasted like shitty blue-raspberry cough medicine. But it did get rid of hangovers of all kinds, even the over-sleeping kind, and he picked up the bottle for a long drink.

He helped himself to cold potatoes and what the mess always tried to pass off as meatloaf, not bothering with the microwave. Now that he was paying attention and had a little light, he could hear Chuck and Max both breathing in their sleep and he didn’t want to wake them.

When he was done he fed a fingerful of meat to Rupert and washed his hands, trying to decide what he was going to do with himself. Bloody stupid, going to sleep at four in the afternoon when he knew he was just going to wake up late at night.

There was a shifting sound and Herc turned off the light, planning to get some things out of his footlocker and maybe go to the gym. No one would be there but guys shirking their night shift and usually they didn’t want to talk.

Letting himself out was another thing entirely, but he made the minimal amount of noise and had to push Rupert back into the room. Dressed in an old pair of shorts and a white tank, he hefted his little backpack of gear and headed out of the dormitories. 

He was about five songs into his workout when he saw a reflection of the gym door opening. He didn’t bother looking, focusing on his reps as AC/DC blared in his ears and sweat rolled down his temples.

With a grunt he set the barbell back in its hooks and relaxed, eyes going closed as he stretched his arms out in front of him.

A headphone was snatched from his ear. 

“You fucking mind, mate?” Herc growled, not bothering to look.

That was when he caught a familiar scent. Max’s soap. Some artificial honey and oat scent, from back when the world still had bees. Herc hated that smell as much as he loved it, and it sent a little zing of want from head to toes.

“You always bitch out Chuck for not using a spotter,” she said.

He opened his eyes now. She was smiling at him, an improvement from the last time he left her crying and standing alone in the change room.

“You should be asleep.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been on a kick for a few days,” she said in excuse, standing up straight. “We’ve been rebuilding computers. Tendo asked us specifically to do it before you left. It’s for a rebuild.”

“Gipsy Danger.”

“That’s the one. Anyway, no one knows targeting systems as well as Chuck and I, or so he says, so we agreed to do some work.”

He sat up, watching her play with her hands like she was holding something interesting there. He had his feeling his workout was pretty well done.

“What do you want, Max?”

“Haven’t seen my dad in days and you ask me what I want?” she was still looking down. Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head and under the lights her freckles seemed to blaze. She was wearing the same sweats and shirt from earlier, and he wondered - with a measure of guilt - if that meant the rainbow panties were still on as well.

“Max.”

“I want to go to the kwoon, if you’re done here.” When Herc didn’t say anything she looked up, eyes dancing and a little smile twisting up her lips. “Well, unless you think you can’t go toe-to-toe with a little girl.”

“You’re not a little girl,” he said, standing up.

“I’m not daddy’s little girl?” She was teasing now.

“That’s different.”

The kwoon wasn’t far from the gym and it was empty. Only the guide lights were on, shining mutely up from the edges of the ring. Herc kicked off his sneakers as Max pulled the headphones out of his mp3 player.

“You’re so old. This thing is like, ten years old.”

“Still works. And it still matches up with computers,” he said defensively.

She shrugged, flipping the music before choosing something that struck her fancy. “At least it’s not an iPod.” She tossed it on the matts and picked up a pair of gloves from a cabinet. Together they stretched a few times before walking to the middle. She was humming along to the music as she bounced on her bare feet.

They nodded at each other, as Herc felt himself drifting into that space in his head that made him capable of seeing either Chuck or Max as a target. 

The fight itself started as something almost a dance. A step here or there as hands drifted up to defend. He stepped in, she bounced back. She moved right, he turned to follow her. 

She threw the first punch and Herc deflected it with his right hand, and then her second jab with his left. He didn’t bother chastising her, or telling her to aim higher. He knew better, that she was just testing the waters. Max was just as capable as he or Chuck.

They clashed in the center of the mat after that, their styles a mixture of boxing, muay thai and others they’d learned since joining the Jaeger Program. Despite not having drifted for ten days he felt something ghosting between the two of them, could catch snippets of emotions or feelings.

With the music playing they parried and deflected, moving quicker and quicker. Both of their breaths were coming in pants, sweat beading on their temples. The scent of her - that honey smell, that took him back a long way - was vaporized. He wasn’t sure if it was the ghosting or just his own sick mind taking the sounds of her gasps and grunts and turning it into something more, something that he wanted to hear more of.

A lucky shot slammed through his defenses and caught him on the lip. He tasted a little blood as his teeth cut into the soft flesh in his mouth and grunted, stepping back. The next second he felt her smugness coming through the drift and he lunged, throwing his body weight at her, sending them both toppling to the ground.

She grunted again as they hit the mat. Herc pushed himself up with his fists. She still felt smug. “Slow in your old age, so you’re throwing your weight around?”

“What’s going on in there?” he asked. “What are you after?”

She made a huffing sound, giving him a shove. “Can’t a girl just spar with her dad?”

“At two in the morning?”

“Get off. Now.”

Herc grunted, getting up off of her. He rocked back into an easier position, hands on his knees. “Talk to me, Max.”

“The way you talked to me?” she asked, still lying on the mats, pushing sweaty hair back from her forehead. “Before you swanned off?”

“I had to go. You know that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I still think you owe me an explanation.”

“For what?” It came out harsher than he intended, but he felt a swell of anger regardless. “I think you owe me, Maxine. You and Chuck are the ones with explaining to do.”

“Right, because making out with your son in the dunny isn’t somehow worthy of an explanation.”

She refused to break eye contact, and was rewarded after about a long minute of staring when Herc looked away.

Max rolled on her stomach. “Who first?”

“You. How long have I been a shite father? How long have you two been…” he took a deep breath and forced the word out, “pashing.”

Max sighed, putting her forehead against her arms. 

“Chuck doesn’t know I know, does he?”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’re not ready to talk.” He got up and went to his things, shutting off the mp3 player. As he let himself into the locker room he could feel something from Max - frustration - as he went into the men’s side and stripped.

He turned the shower on hot and leaned against the cold tiled walls. He was getting tired enough again that he thought he might be able to sleep once he got back to the room, if only for a couple hours, when the plastic curtain shifted back.

Max was standing there, not even wearing a towel. His breath caught, because while he’d seen her naked - in the drift, anyway - he hadn’t seen her like this. And she looked a little like Angela for a moment. If her hair had been short and blonde, and eyes a slightly different shade, he’d have said it could have been her. Her body, though, was all Hansen, in every curve. There was no stopping his eyes dipping down, memorizing the swell of her breasts and taut nipples, the beading of water on her smooth stomach, and the dark red curls between her legs. He looked back up at her face and saw other things - little things - that he loved about her. Things that were all her own, like the bow of her lips or the dotting of freckles over her cheekbones. He could imagine that quirk in her smile when she was feeling sarcastic, or the way her eyes might dance when she was up to no good.

Like this, though, it hurt because her eyes looked so desperate and lost.

“Daddy,” she said, stepping inside, letting the curtain fall back. 

“Max,” he took a deep breath, “you shouldn’t be in here.”

She ignored him though, tucking in against him. He put his arm around her, sliding his hands along her damp skin as she pressed her nose against his throat. He hated himself for everything, for wanting to feel more of her breasts pressed against his skin, to kiss her lips, push his fingers through her hair. 

Instead of moving away like he ought to he reached around with his other hand and drew her even closer.

“Touch me,” she murmured.

“How?”

“Just touch me.”

He held her tighter, sliding one hand down along her spine, making her shiver. He wondered if that was all she wanted, to be held and comforted. They did precious little of that, ever since the twins had gone off to the Jaeger Academy. With a little sigh he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, stroking back up to her shoulder blades.

“That better, baby girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

One of her hands began to move in response, tracing over his scars from the relay suit. The tips of her fingers pressed against the ridges of tissue, following the pattern. Her touch was electric, making heat start to coil in his belly. Herc held his breath, waiting to see where she went with it, if anywhere.

“Do you think she’d be proud?”

He blinked. “You mean, your mom?”

“Mmhmm.” Her fingers moved lower to the ones on his hip, moving slowly towards his front. “It’s just… your scars. I don’t have them. I wonder if mom were alive, if she’d be proud of me if I had them.”

“Max,” he said, feeling worried now as he pushed her away, trying to look her in the eyes. But her head was down, red hair hanging in heavy wet ringlets. He didn’t like the way she was starting to tremble. “Max don’t talk like that.”

She looked up, lips trembling. “You wanna know everything? Why I’m - I’m so mad? Having trouble talking?” She wiped her eyes. “I always have to watch you two go. I have to look at the screens, at readouts, and press footage, and I’m not there. And I thought you picked Chuck, for everything. And that maybe I’d have to watch you both leave me that way too.”

“Max…”

“I know it’s dumb. But I just didn’t want to be left behind.”

With a heavy sigh, he brought Max’s face to his. “I was a shit father.”

“Dad-”

“No. I was. And I’m not going to leave you.”

“Promise?”

He kissed her, rubbing a thumb along her jaw. He hated how much his body responded to the way she shuddered and pressed tighter against him. “Promise.”

He wasn’t expecting the way she kissed him in response. She surged against him, fingers curling against his skin as she backed him against the wall. The ghost drift whispered and he felt need, an almost blistering feeling that flared in his chest, as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself up higher. He knew he shouldn’t let this go far, as much as he ached to. There was still Chuck to consider, and after what he’d done a month before he couldn’t let himself do it again, here and now. If all three of them were damned, so be it, but it wouldn’t be one by one, and it wouldn’t be apart.

It didn’t stop him from groaning as she climbed up higher, legs hooking around his hips. Her pussy slid along his stirring cock for a moment before she settled, effectively disrupting his thoughts as he turned to press her against the tiles.

“Daddy,” she begged, as his mouth found her neck and kissed the water away, rocking his hips up against her in a tease. She whimpered a moment into the humid air before she raked her fingers through his hair. “Daddy, we - Chuck.”

He nodded and eased her down, pulling his hips away. She sagged a bit against the tiles, but Herc kissed her before she could say much else. 

“We’ll do it right,” he promised. “Whatever the hell that can possibly mean.”

She giggled against his lips and Herc sighed as he felt  _ relief  _ transferring between them on the ghost drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay no attention to the person behind the curtain who is slow as hell about writing new chapters >.>


	5. Chapter 5

Herc and Max were walking together down the hall, both of them still damp from the shower, each step slow and sleepy. Their fingers were twined as they walked, and Herc was fairly sure he hadn’t held Max’s hand since she was very small. Maybe even before Scissure. It was comforting, like a load had lifted off of his chest since they had spoke, and fortunately no one was about in the hallways to see them. It was just the two of them walking the halls, the clock not even striking five am.

“This is nice,” murmured Max, her body gently bumping into Herc’s. “Makes me remember the boardwalk. Bondi Beach. You bought Chuck and I ice creams, and pinwheels. Mom,” she sucked in a breath, “mom looked really pretty. Do you remember?”

He did, but not well. “We flew kites, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. They had kaiju kites. You didn’t like them. You had us fly a red one.”

“Chuck fussed.”

She smiled in the dim light. “Chuck always fusses.” A moment later she tucked into Herc’s side like she had under the water, humming softly, a sound bordering on a contented moan.

They hadn’t done much of anything in the shower except hold each other, idle chit-chat seeming out of place as he watched her rub shampoo through her long hair. He was more than a little guilty about being unable to look away from her, but he figured it was about time he went beyond that. Still, thinking about it, and the sounds she kept making whenever Herc stroked her hair or put his arm around her, were distracting.

They were about fifty feet from their room when the silence was shattered by the Kaiju Alert, the ‘night lights’ that kept the hallways just bright enough to travel switched into the emergency red and white lighting. An alarm beeped from the PA system and Herc let go of Max’s fingers, dropping their hands at their sides.

“Of fucking course,” he muttered, thinking about how they’d supposedly had another day before the next attack, and now the breach was moving. At least he wasn’t still in Hong Kong.

“No point griping about it,” said Max, jogging up to the room door with her keycard out.

In the room Chuck was already up and moving, getting dressed in his coveralls with a biscuit hanging half out of his mouth as he shoved his feet into boots and Rupert ran around his legs barking.

He looked up at the groan of the door and pulled the biscuit out of his mouth, dropping the half eaten cookie for Rupert to snatch up. “Where the fuck were you two? There’s movement in the breach.”

“We can hear, Charles,” said Max with a toss of her hair, walking past him and over to her footlocker. Herc averted his eyes a touch late as Max peeled herself out of her workout clothes and tossed them aside. “We were sparring in the kwoon.”

Chuck was looking between the two of them, his expression a little hurt. “Why didn’t you ask me to join?”

“I was working out alone when your sister decided to bother me,” said Herc, changing into his own coveralls, leaving just his boxers on underneath. He was keeping his tone neutral, despite the white lie that he was telling. And with a kaiju alert, the white lie wouldn’t be hidden for long. “Blame her.”

Chuck shook his head. “Well, good of you to show up,” he said sarcastically as he straightened out, pulling his leather Striker jacket on.

As per usual, the Shatterdome was chaos as every single person went to their stations, the entire ‘Dome on mass alert. Max accompanied them to get suited up while the PA system gave updates, her computers weighing down a heavy bag that she had slung over one shoulder, Rupert’s leash in her other hand. By the time they were in the change room it had been categorized and named. Max was reading off the computer screen as the two of them pulled on their relay suits.

“Category four, codename Rachnid. It’s got the water displacement of a cat-three, but apparently it’s extremely toxic,” she said. “Suppose that’s where the name comes from.”

“Well with Uluru and Striker on the case, I can’t imagine it’s going to matter that much,” said Lynda Cavendish, one of Uluru Delta’s pilots. “Size of a cat-three, it’ll go down in two shots.”

Herc looked up, wishing that Striker was on it’s own deployment, but the toxicity was probably making the PPDC and LOCCENT worry. He’d rather have this time with just his kids, and while he didn’t dislike Lynda or her husband Mark he also didn’t seek out their company. 

“Honestly,” said Mark, stretching his arms, “I’m just glad Vulcan and Echo are watching Sydney. We’ve got to catch up in kills.” He glanced at Herc and Chuck with his trademark smarmy grin. “Don’t worry, Striker might get in a punch or two.”

Uluru had two kills to Vulcan’s four and Echo’s three. No one had anything on Striker,  except perhaps Cherno Alpha. Herc and Chuck alone had six solid kills and more than a few assists. Herc didn’t like their presumptions. Sure, he tried not to get competitive, but a Mark III was not going to out perform Striker.

“Watch it,” warned Chuck, as the two of them disappeared to get their exterior suits applied. He stared a moment before relaxing, shaking his head and looking disgusted. “Smarmy fucking pommy bastards. I’d rather deploy with Echo.”

Herc didn’t nod, but he raised his eyebrows, not completely disagreeing. Besides Stacks, there weren’t many Brits he could stand. 

“Let’s just focus on killing it, who cares who gets the kill.”

_ “I _ care. Cavendish one and two don’t got shit on Team Hansen. Right Rupe?” asked Chuck. Rupert barked and jumped up at his leg. “That’s right. Good boy.”

“I better get up to LOCCENT,” said Max, picking up her bag. “You two be careful. Really careful.” She glanced at Herc when she said this and he nodded, letting out a little sigh.

Chuck just snorted and rolled his eyes as he held out his arms for her. “When are we not?” 

“You want me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?” she said, tucking herself into his arms. Herc watched Chuck give her a chaste kiss and hug, and he wondered what kind of goodbye Chuck might give her if he had already left. 

Max hugged him next and he gave her a kiss on the forehead and a very hard hug before she left with Rupert, leaving Chuck and Herc alone.

This was normally where they’d stride off to get suited up, but Herc put a hand on Chuck’s shoulder, stopping him from going far. He knew he had to tell him  _ something _ but he had no idea what to say or do that might make this less of a shock, especially if Max hadn’t told Chuck anything about Herc knowing what was going on.

And if he told Chuck now, would that make the drift better or worse?

“What, you want a hug and a pash too old man?” demanded Chuck, looking around at him.

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered. “This is about the drift. Full disclosure, all that. I kissed someone.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Good on ya, finding some Chinese Jaeger fly while you were out. Or was it that Jenissa girl that Stacker’s got as a secretary?”

“Neither,” said Herc, sighing and feeling more than a little defeated by Chuck’s attitude. He could see the jealousy in Chuck’s face, but Chuck looked away a second later and began to stride towards the door. “Anything I should know about?”

“Got fucked. Got a blow. Plenty of things,” he said casually. “Look, if you don’t want a personal touchy-feely chick flick moment, can you pull out your tampon so we can go save the world now?”

Herc knew short of actually telling him what had happened Chuck was going to blow everything off. And maybe it really was better to just keep a secret than let Chuck go into the conn pod with all the drama in his head. “Do not let your sister hear you say that,” said Herc, shaking his head and following after him. “Alright. But keep your head in the game, kid.”

“You too, old man.”

**

Everything that could go wrong did. Chuck was used to things going to shit but it didn’t make it any easier to see everything falling around within a matter of moments. Striker sure wasn’t looking good next to the stark white Mark 3, Uluru Delta.

Rachnid wasn’t really like a spider or a scorpion. It was more like some hellish lobster or worm, midnight black with massive claws, it’s long plated tail ending in a sharp stinger. According to LOCCENT it was approximately five hundred feet long, but it was much smaller around than any other Cat-4. While its size wasn’t intimidating, how quickly it moved proved it wasn’t something to underestimate, especially with that heavy plating.

Like it had known to fear Striker above all others, it had completely ignored Uluru’s advance and shot straight towards them. Chuck had thought Hound had hurt when it had headbutt his leg hard enough to make it feel like it was dislocated. When Rachnid had wrapped around them and smashed its claws at their right arm Chuck’s body was alive with pain.

Uluru caught up at least, their Searing Blade cutting off and cauterizing one of Rachnid’s claws, turning the attention from them to the Mark III. It was like a boa constrictor had given them up for more interesting pray, leaving Striker to fall to its knees in the bay.

About five minutes into interception, with one of Striker’s arms hanging from its side, dad’s right arm just as useless in the suit, he had a brief moment of panic that Striker was headed for Oblivion Bay. 

_ Can’t let Max down, _ he thought, gritting his teeth as he willed his leg to rise and fall, feeling  _ agreement _ and  _ worry _ bleeding through from his dad’s mind.

Ahead of them, now almost a kilometer away with their parrying blows, Uluru Delta was like a shimmering mirage on the horizon. As Striker struggled to move despite losing an arm, Uluru was on top of Rachnid, holding on like they were in some kind of bizarre and deadly rodeo. Over the com, Chuck could hear LOCCENT giving readings on Rachnid’s signature as Uluru slammed their Searing Blades over and over between Rachnid’s plating, making the Kaiju scream loud enough that it might have shattered glass. It was enough, even at a distance and within the safety of the conn pod, that both he and Herc winced.

“They can’t get credit,” said Chuck. “Hold it together, we’ll - we’ll still scratch this win.”

Beside him Herc let out a growl of frustration as they lurched forward again, making Chuck gasp in pain as the relay made the circuitry burn into his skin that much worse. Their leg was malfunctioning too. Probably something, some fucking glitch, left over from Hound. With the time between Kaiju ticking down to merely two weeks apart, what could they do? It required massive amounts of time and manpower to fix a damaged Jaeger. Something that they just didn’t have anymore, what with funding being cut. No one wanted to work for free, not even to save the world.

Over the com Lynda was calling out strikes, sounding more delighted than someone in this situation had right to be. 

“I’d rather they get the credit than die here,” said Herc.

“Oh shut up!” snapped Chuck, looking over at him. “No one’s going to fucking die, old man - SHIT!”

Before them, Rachnid’s massive tail came up and stabbed forward. Somehow the stinger had grown as it had lashed back and forth beneath the water as Uluru pummeled the kaiju’s body near the bulk of its body. Chuck watched in horror as it pierced straight through Uluru’s core with a spurt of fluids - toxins and coolant alike spraying through the air. Like the fallen Gipsy Danger, she had a Vortex Turbine, and the red glow of her heart pulsed and went out. The sounds of Lynda and Mark were deafening over the headset as the tail pulled free in a savage slice that sent half of Uluru plunging into Moreton Bay with an eruption of thick blue-green streams of acid.

There was a moment of silence as Rachnid twisted in the water, diving under after Uluru’s body, before LOCCENT was on the com. “We’ve got a pick-up for Vulcan and Echo inbound. Hold on, Striker, just keep it off the shore.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Herc as they straightened, and Chuck could feel Herc swallowing down the growl of pain the same as Chuck was. Ahead of them Rachnid finished off Uluru with another powerful plunge of its stinger.

“We’ll have that thing dead before Echo and Vulcan are here,” said Chuck, bringing up his left arm.

Herc looked over at Chuck. “We could die.”

Despite the fact Chuck had been worrying about just that, he turned and glared at him, feeling resentment that his dad was so ready to just accept that they could die the same as Lynda and Mark Cavendish. “Shut the hell up! I’m not ready -”

“Chuck,” said Herc firmly, the voice that took Chuck straight back to childhood, when he was getting admonished for acting out or being unreasonable, “we could die.”

He was furious as his jaw set, but the worry was starting to swell like a blister in the drift. He shook his head, feeling tears in his eyes as thoughts of Max pushed up. In the drift the moment seemed to last a long time, even though it was likely only a matter of milliseconds.  _ I’m not ready, _ he thought, not wanting Loccent to hear this. Not wanting his sister, undoubtedly watching on the screens, to hear this.  _ Max… _

_ I know. _ Herc’s answer was soft and understanding.

_ No, you don’t. _ He felt stubbornness, that innate urge to hide everything from his dad building like a wall. But if they were going to die, was it a secret he had to keep to himself? _ She- _

_ Chuck.  _ The gentleness of the interruption was almost unbearable for Chuck.  _ I know. _

Without meaning to, Chuck felt his expression break. Vulnerability, the knowledge of the relationship he and Max had shared for years, welled up between the two of them. Herc  _ knew _ . And he didn’t care. Didn’t judge. All of the worry about a backlash, each built up drop of anxiety, made Chuck sag a little in his harness as he fought to keep his wits about him.

Tendo’s voice over the com was sharp. “Striker, don’t break drift now! Hold it together! Rachnid is inbound. Repeat, Rachnid is inbound.”

He looked up, focusing on the moment. Ahead of them, an alien seasnake coursing through the water, Rachnid was coming for them.

He heard his dad grunt in pain as he fought to lift his arm and take the controller into his left hand. Felt it like an echo of an old hurt. He couldn’t imagine what dad was feeling. And somehow, all the while, Herc was letting calming feelings, and feelings of acceptance, just keep pushing through the drift, like he was trying to pilot Striker on his own and give Chuck a rest.

That made Chuck nod. “Alright, let’s do it. Time to show this fugly bitch who’s boss.”

“Damn straight,” said Herc. “We kill it for Uluru Delta.”

“We make it back for her.” Together their arms raised, and they both screamed as one as they leaned forward, racing towards Rachnid despite the pain.

With an explosion of seawater and an earsplitting shriek, Rachnid came out of the water, and Striker crashed into it as the seabed turned to rubble beneath their feet and the ocean churned.

**

“Let me in there you drongo!”

Chuck groaned in response, brow furrowing. Breathing in caused a bolt of pain to grip his chest and he coughed. His right arm didn’t want to move, though. Each motion from his shoulder to his fingers was sluggish and slow. His hand was starting to get itchy, as if he’d been laying on it.

He opened his eyes slow, taking in the dim lights, the sight of medical equipment around him. It wasn’t the conn pod. A glance down showed he wasn’t in either his drive suit or relay suit either, but in the flimsy fabric of a hospital gown.

_ What the hell? _

“Miss if you don’t calm down-”

_ “Fuck _ calming down! My dad and my brother are in there and if you don’t let me in  _ right now…” _

He turned his head, seeking the sound of the yelling, and spotted the other bed next to him. Dad was there, just waking up too by the looks of things. He was all banged up. Precious little wonder why, as the memories started to come back. Chuck’s harness had broken in Rachnid’s death throes and he remembered dad unhooking to get him out. Dad had gone flying while Chuck had been snapped about like a busted up marionette.

He grunted, struggling to sit up straight, but his body wasn’t cooperating.  _ I must be drugged pretty bad. _

No doubt, too, those dulcet tones were Max. 

“No one but the doctor’s are permitted in the recovery room, and certainly not that dog.”

“If you don’t let me in you’re going to need a recovery room!”

Chuck shook his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Next to him he could feel dad’s emotions bleeding through the drift. He was definitely amused, and Chuck could tell he was relieved too by something.

After a moment Herc cleared his throat. “Let Max in or we’re smashing up the place.”

There was an angry sound from the guard and a moment later Max and Rupert were both coming in, followed by a harassed looking PPDC medical officer. Honestly, Chuck figured the man ought to know better than to try to keep Max out.

“She’s next of kin,” said Chuck, giving the man a look. “Shouldn’t need to yell her way in.”

“Hospital medical rules stated without authorized identification she can’t come in,” he said, standing by the door.

_ Arsewipe, _ thought Chuck, looking at Max critically. It was pretty obvious from her puffy eyes she’d been crying, and even without the drift he could feel how anxious and upset she was. He imagined she’d been on pins and needles the entire time. “So we’re in Brisbane?”

“Yes.”

Herc grunted. “Well seeing as you must be new, she’s my daugher, and you better mind yourself. You can stand guard outside.”

With another look at them the guard turned and left. Chuck wiggled on the bed wishing he could sit up properly, but he figured he must have a broken arm or some sort of laceration for that sort of localized anesthetic.

“So what’s new sis?”

She turned to look at him, tossing her braid over her shoulder.  _ “What’s new _ , he says, as if I didn’t just sit through seven hours of hell,” she said, trying to look strict, but after a moment her face softened. “You’re lucky you aren’t  _ dead.” _

“To be honest I’m surprised there aren’t any pearly gates right now.”

She wiped at her eyes, a glitter of tears in her eyes before she brushed it away. “Pearly Gates? More like brimstone for you, little brother.”

“One goddamn hour,” he growled as she went up to the bed and sat down next to his leg, her hand reaching out to squeeze his leg.

She shook her head. “I can’t stay long. Had to fight like hell just to get to fly to Brisbane. Commander wanted me back in the ‘Dome working.” She wiped her eyes again with a sniff. “Striker’s already back in Sydney. Echo and Vulcan are on cleanup duty of Rachnid.”

“And how’s Striker?” asked Herc, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Ah, well. Right arm fell off when we did the lift. Had another couple of heli’s in to pick  _ that _ up. By what little readouts I managed to get before Rachnid completely destroyed my sensors, there was a severe glitch in the left leg. Stinger just managed to miss the reactor core. All in all, we’re not going to have her up and running for a little while.”

“Estimate?”

“Not knowing the full extent of the damage? Without proper diagnostics I’d say over a month. Striker’s sitting out the next few Kaiju. I’m calling in Mako to try and help with the rebuild.”

Chuck nodded. Mako was one of the best, headed the Jaeger restoration project when last he heard. Right now, though, he was more concerned with his own state than a possible reunion. The longer he was awake the more the itch in his hand spread upward. Looking at himself he saw only bandages though. “What happened to us?”

She squeezed his leg again. “Dad’s pranged up, lots of bruising. Helmet saved him from a concussion. He’ll be wandering around in no time.”

He didn’t like the way she hesitated. “And me?”

“Lucky you’re not fucking dead,” she muttered. “From what we got in readouts to what I managed to gather after stealing your chart from the head desk, you’ve got some serious lacerations  from where equipment perforated your drive suit, and you had a dislocated arm and several dislocated ribs. Probably why you’re groggy. Heavy pain meds.”

_ Thank god it’s not a break, _ thought Chuck. The last few minutes killing Rachnid were blurry, but he definitely remembered pain.

Herc got up, took a few testing steps, then went over to Max, putting his arm around her. When Herc kissed her temple it reminded Chuck of just before attacking Rachnid, and the thought made him go still.

_ Dad knows. He knows about Max and I. _

“Time to point Percy at the porcelain,” said Herc, by way of excusing himself, shuffling towards the bathroom. Chuck had a vague impression through the ghost drift that dad was trying to give he and Max a minute alone.

“Well we’re alive,” he said softly. “And I’ll be on my feet in no time.”

She nodded, smiling. “Yep. Kicking ass and fixing Striker again by the end of the week.”

He sat up, wincing. His arm was becoming more cooperative the more the pain killers were wearing off, but it also meant breathing hurt. Not much of a trade off. “Dad - he knows. I dunno how long he’s known, but-”

“Two weeks.”

He hadn’t expected something so definitive. In fact, he expected worry or shock. “Two weeks? How can you be so sure?”

“Last time he and I drifted.”

“And you  _ didn’t think to tell me?” _ he demanded, feeling betrayed for being kept out of the loop. “This is  _ important!” _

“I know. But he also wanted to talk about it in his own time.” She fidgeted a moment. “You were right.”

“About?”

“Dad’s just as capable of making two choices as he is at one.”

Before he could reply there was commotion at the door. A doctor and a few nurses came in, accompanied by Commander Hershel. Outside Chuck could hear a murmur of voices that probably lent itself to the media.

Just seeing their new company made Max hop off the bed. “I guess I’ll go catch my ride back to the ‘Dome,” she said. “See you soon.”

“See you,” he murmured, watching her leave as the newcomers crowded the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything keeps getting in the way of these three working it out...
> 
> Also, I'm sure people have noticed Uluru Delta isn't canon. I did some math, trying to work out the decay cycle that Hermann used to determine when the breach would open. So in total (compared to the official timeline in the wiki) my best estimate is that there were around 67 kaiju landing before the double event. Provided Striker held the true record (10 kills) there had to be a lot more jaegers than ever listed (and of course, looking at the time line, waaaay more kaiju that were ever named). So this is me making stuff up to make the canon movie math more or less work. So when I mention the next Kaiju, rather than it being Fiend (oct 31) there will be two more between it, and six between Fiend and Mutavore. Hong Kong alone had six bays (with the capacity to launch 30 jaegers in total) so... yeah. That's a hell of a lot more than the wiki data leads us to believe.
> 
> -waves flags- more soon I hope. I want to get this done as soon as possible


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, man I wanted this posted like two weeks ago but I keep second guessing myself and doing new editing. So, this is the final draft of chapter six. They still haven't figured out their relationship. But I guarantee that's next chapter

Max hated the sound of drumming. Not in recorded music, with a band. That was fine, it was percussion and it was necessary. The drumming she hated was a lonely sound, drumsticks falling onto a snare drum, accompanied by the sound of boots and dress shoes on concrete. All she could think of was ominous, marching death. And now she could hear it, far off, but coming.

The weather was cold for the Bay Area. Max had been there too many times in the last few years, and nearly every time had been warm and sunny. Now, as the wind whipped down from the north, she was shivering, wishing she could reach up and draw the trench coat she'd been given tighter around herself. According to vulcanologists and K-Science, the Breach continuously opening was causing an increase of seismic activity on the pacific rim that was resulting in a high number of volcanic eruptions, as if Kaiju coming along and smashing up urban centres wasn't bad enough. For the last few years global temperatures were dropping. San Francisco, even in late September, ought to be warmer, sunnier.

The Bay Area itself had changed a lot. It was Max's understanding that the coastlines were different, though she'd never seen them before the war. In the distance, if she turned and looked northwest, she'd be able to see the red remains of the Golden Gate Bridge. There were efforts to have it fixed, of course. But it had been destroyed some ten years past, and with money going to the war effort and the Pacific Wall no one had gotten to it yet. Instead there were ferries, and the tall red towers still stretching to the sky were a monument to a dead world.

But she wasn't looking northwest, or even at San Francisco. She was looking east, at Oblivion Bay, with the rest of the funeral attendees who were gathered to lay Lynda and Mark Cavendish to rest.

The island, which shared a name with Oblivion Bay, was first used as a memorial to Trespasser. It had started out as an artificial island created to replace a dangerous shoal. According to the museum dedicated to kaiju and the war it had once been named Treasure Island, but following a large amount of destruction and a considerable amount of Blue pollution it had been re-purposed for a memorial to those lost to Trespasser's wake, and later on for the PPDC.

Max resisted the urge to fidget, knowing she was supposed to be standing straight, looking reflective. And she was, in some ways, but she wasn't sure it was in the right ways. She wasn't sure if she had business being here, standing on a memorial site, in a group of people wearing the muted colours and blacks of mourning.

The drums grew louder and with a collective shuffle, the crowd turned to look. Max moved with it, waiting for the procession from the Avenue of the Fallen as she tried to ignore the chill creeping into her bones. Her feet felt like cold lumps of lead in shiny black dress shoes, legs turning to goose flesh under her nylons as she fought to keep herself from rubbing her thighs together for a bit of friction. _God damn American autumn weather,_ she thought, as she pushed numb fingers into the pockets of her navy blue trench coat.

At the end of the short plaza they were in, surrounded on all sides by white marked graves, the procession finally appeared. She took a deep breath as she watched both Herc and Chuck leading the pallbearers, Mark Cavendish's empty casket on their shoulders. Despite the rivalry with Uluru Delta, she supposed they were leading because they had been the closest witnesses.

Her eyes flickered to the rest. It was with a tiny pang that she realized how few rangers there were left. That year alone they had lost several jaegers, and with the way the kaiju seemed to be evolving it was likely there would be more.

Following behind Herc and Chuck were the married pilots of Vulcan Spectre, Audrey and Heidi Steele. From her angle she could see only Audrey, who was an Aboriginal woman from Australia's interior, her eyes downcast as she walked. Behind her was Ilisapie Flint, a Canadian Inuit who piloted Chrome Brutus with her cousin Zeke Amarok. She'd never really spoken to either of them, as they had deployed from Anchorage until recently, but she liked them.

Close behind was Lynda's casket, carried by the pilots of Matador Fury that she had drank with on so many occasions, as well as the Japanese twins Kaede and Haruka Iwaizumi who piloted Echo Saber. The last of the pallbearers were a man and woman she simply knew as X and V, the pilots of the American jaeger Folsom Witch. Following behind were the last three teams on active duty; Nova Hyperion's pilots Pang So-Yi and An Yuna, the Wei Clan, and towering over the rest were the Kaidanovsky's. The clock said there would be little over a week until the next Kaiju. She supposed it was the only reason anyone was here at all.

Max looked down at her feet. _Nine jaeger's left. All the world has now is nine, and no funding._

The procession stopped, the pallbearers standing side by each as they looked up at Marshal Pentecost, the few other CO's that could come standing behind him, their faces mask-like with duty. Off to his right were who Max was assuming were Mark and Lynda's parents each, both women veiled.

 _One day that could be me right there,_ she realized. _I'm the only one left._ The thought was jarring as she watched, wishing she could see Chuck and Herc at that angle. Anything to bring their faces into focus, reinforce that they were the very best the PPDC had to offer, that they were alive.

Pentecost gave a speech, describing their efforts and talents. Their personalities, and what they brought to the PPDC. Max knew it was inappropriate, that she ought to be focusing on the lives lost and not what could be, but all she could think of was Pentecost's voice describing her brother and father while she watched, left behind. _This is for Mark and Lynda,_ she thought, but looked down again anyway, eyes stinging from tears and the cold wind as guns were raised and fired. The sound echoed over the bay, mixing with the sound of crashing waves upon the rocks at shore.

Lynda and Mark Cavendish were laid to rest early in the morning as the sun hid behind fog sweeping down the surrounding hills. Their parents accepted the Union Flag's from their caskets and their medals. Max imagined there were crates from Sydney somewhere for them to ship back to England. They threw handfuls of dirt on the caskets and Max had to close her eyes again.

The last part of the ceremony was signalled by a single trumpet. They gathered at the edge of the pavilion to watch as the remains of Uluru Delta, her shining white chassis tarnished from the clash with Rachnid, was flown in under the power of six Jumphawks. She dangled from cables, damaged, forlorn, on the way to her final drop.

Every member of the PPDC raised their hand in a salute as Uluru fell to the sea, joining her fallen siblings in the cold water of Oblivion Bay. She crashed, a massive splash of water cresting through the air, the water turned to churning foam, where she would remain forever. Slumped, rusting with the passage of time. Megaliths in tribute to a dying world. Behind them all, the same trumpeter was now playing Taps.

When it died there was still noise, but to Max it was like silence. No one spoke, no one even seemed to breathe. There was only the waves, the wind, the seagulls. The far sounds of traffic on the Bay Bridge. The idea of a voice, any human made sound, seemed sacrilegious.

She looked beyond the jaegers to the towering bones of Trespasser. Even there life was building up again. She'd read that in Hiroshima, it was only a few months before people could habit it again. That fallout wasn't as lingering as a nuclear reactor. All around the world, Bone Slums had burst up in supposed exclusion zones. _The legacy of the future,_ she thought.

After another minute of silence there was a cough, a shuffle of feet. Slowly people turned away, one or two at a time. Then there was a collective movement as people walked away from the stone of the pavilion, the tidy grass of the cemetery, the white crosses. Down below there would be a wake in the museum. Some – like Echo Sabre, Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha – would be returning directly to their Shatterdome's, if they still had one. There was no lingering when patrols had to be made and the breach to be monitored. Sikorsky's were waiting on nearby helipads to get them to the airport.

The chill seemed to cut a little deeper as people moved away, leaving her alone. Max watched Uluru, settled in the gray water water now, the waves moving only with the wind and the tide rather than her fall. It was disturbingly easy to see Striker there instead. The last, the greatest, the supposed bastion of hope at the end of the war. Rusted and long forgotten.

Someone's hand found hers and tugged. Without looking she knew it was Chuck and twined her fingers with his, turning into him. His cold forehead touched hers and they both just breathed together as all footsteps disappeared. It was just them, for a second, and nothing but the wind.

“You have press,” she said without moving.

“I have hardly seen you in a week. Let me enjoy this.” The petulance in his tone made her smile.

“Well, there's that little alcove down a bit. Where we went that time dad took us here to give us perspective.”

Chuck turned and tugged her hand without any prompting. The stairs from the cemetery wound down to the Avenue of the Fallen, but there were small paths branching off among gardens. Despite fall coming on, the flowers were still pretty. There were still roses, and Max let her cold fingers brush the waxy petals.

The alcove in question seemed a lot smaller now, she noticed, but she didn't mind. It was a small half circle in a stone wall, a tree growing from the centre with a small bench behind it. Shadowy, private, and they sat together with their fingers still tightly linked as they looked up at the branches. The leaves were starting to turn red, and there were dark berries clustered underneath them. She was sure they were poisonous.

“I bet Deb's staring at her watch and getting ready for a search party,” said Chuck. Deb Ashby was the head of Striker's PR team. She was not known for patience.

“Fuck her,” said Max. She didn't mind Deb, but Chuck was right. A stolen five minutes was precious. “How are your ribs?”

“Healed up. Few years ago it would have been miserable, but those injections they gave me have me hardly feeling it now. They said a broken bone can be healed in three weeks.” His thumb rubbed a few circles on hers. “Dad's fine too.”

“Good.”

“How's Striker?”

She sighed, fixing her eyes on a spot on the bark. “I've got the crew working overtime, and we got an influx of tech's after Uluru went down. Hershel split the remaining crew that didn't want out among us and Vulcan and Echo. The bits that need finesse can wait until we get back, but they're well on their way reattaching the arm. And the core's good, she's- mmh!”

Chuck tilted her head up as she spoke and kissed her, his hands cold on her chin but his mouth was hot as she parted her lips.

This was beyond risky. With reporters and paparazzi sneaking around, it would be easy to have a photo taken of them. But she sighed a little and reached up too, cupping the back of his neck. She'd have liked to really kiss him – pet her hands through his hair, rumple his dress blues. But the press would notice. Everyone would notice. And even if they didn't think she did it, Chuck would lose a lot of points in the public eye.

Heart racing, she eased away after a long moment. “We can't.”

“I know. I just... haven't been with you in too long. Haven't proper seen you, what with being in the hospital, and the rest of those debriefs and shit.”

She nodded. “We have tonight at least.”

“Yeah. I just... wanted to feel you. Alive.”

She wasn't sure what to say to that and looked down. His big hand wrapped around hers and she leaned into him, closing her eyes, ear over his heart.

<”I love you, my brother,”> she said in their Twinspeak.

<”I love you too.”>

They left a moment later, with a measure of reluctance, and held hands all the way down to the Avenue of the Fallen. The walls here were lined with names. So many people died when Trespasser breached that the names looked like patterned texture along the walls, minuscule and in the tens of thousands. Once Tendo had shown her his grandfather's name, Yeye Choi. She wondered how long it had taken him to find it.

Chuck sighed, the sound resigned to something, and she looked away from the walls. Dad was standing up ahead looking impatient, and behind him was the median fanfare. One part of the memorial was an obelisk where people often laid wrethes and things. There were groups here and there, with chairs and microphones and cameras. Just beyond him was Striker's PR team and she saw Deb Ashby say something, her face stormy. Max would bet money on it being 'about fucking time.'

They stopped by Herc, who reached out and smoothed Chuck's collar down reflexively. Like every time they'd seen each other in the past week, there were all kinds of people around them, and nothing could be said.

“Not a word about pilots,” said Herc, looking at Chuck.

“It's not my fault if-”

“Not a goddamn word. Uluru Delta has made it until now. And if it hadn't been for them, we'd-”

Chuck made an impatient noise in his throat.

Max sighed. She'd heard two rants already. Chuck was now positive that the program was failing because the pilots weren't up to the test. As if the two of them hadn't almost fallen themselves. But she suspected it was something else. Chuck usually reacted to fear with his brash and angry attitude. He was scared, and maybe felt betrayed by the program he believed so strongly in.

“I'll meet you inside, yeah?” she asked. With luck there was an open bar at the wake. She wanted to scrub any residual fears of one day being alone on that terrace from her mind.

“Sure. Save us a seat,” said Herc. “Let's go.”

She watched them walk away a moment before she turned and headed towards the war museum where the wake was being held.

It was blessedly warm inside at least, and those that were not needed with the press were clustered in groups in the foyer. Max was hesitant to take off her coat because it was a formal event, and those meant dresses, but she gave it to the check as she looked at everyone there, wondering who she knew. An attendant handed her a pamphlet, informing her the museum was of course free for PPDC personnel, audio guides were available and all galleries were open.

Max gave her a bland smile and a thank-you in return before stepping ahead, finally spotting Mako Mori with a breath of relief.

Mako was standing with a group of people and she turned, looking over her shoulder to see Max. Max smiled a bit as she stepped forward, feeling a little awkward and nervous, and Mako smiled back before excusing herself from the group and making her way over.

It was enviable, the way she looked and carried herself. Ever since hitting the spotlight after Onibaba she seemed to take it all in stride, adapting and conducting herself far beyond what most would expect of her. Max had heard survivor stories before, and a lot of them turned to drugs or couldn't cope with PTSD. Mako's poise was perfect.

“Hello Max,” she said, nodding her head in a little bow. Her hair streaks, always changing, were a deep purple just then.

Max dipped her head in response. “It's great to see you.”

“Sorry I couldn't make it to Sydney. I've been over-seeing Gipsy Danger's restoration project, and we recently had to move to Hong Kong.”

“I heard,” said Max, falling into step beside her as they wandered away from the groups and somewhere quieter. She was trying to be discreet as she looked for the bar, but she supposed it was in the banquet hall and inaccessible until later.

They stopped beside a map of the museum and they stood side by side, studying it without really looking. Mako's hands were clasped in front of her, holding her purse. Gone was her ever-present clipboard, her combat boots, and the J-Tech uniform that was identical to Max's. Instead she was wearing a black cocktail dress, something with an open back and lace sleeves. Max felt Mako looked much classier than Max's navy dress, something Striker's PR lead gave to her the night before.

“You're doing very well in your heels,” said Mako, still looking up.

“Well, you did give me lessons last night,” she said, smiling a little.

“You did very well, despite the wine.”

“And you made a fine teacher despite drinking even more than I did.”

The two of them giggled a little before turning away from the display. Max was still smiling but it was fading from her lips as she shook her head, looking at the swelling crowd. Sure, she'd never got on with the Cavendish's, but it seemed strange knowing that they weren't here. They were never going to be there, except in the two large pictures that were set up with wreaths near the entrance to the banquet hall.

“It seems surreal, doesn't it,” said Mako, stepping forward a little, her eyes on the same memorial. “But you and I never really think about them. You and I think about others.”

Max's eyebrows tightened and she looked down.

“You don't need to be embarrassed. It is true. You were like me. Standing there, at the terrace, imagining others being born towards the crosses. The war takes a lot. I think it’s why people like you and I need to fight harder. It keeps them safe.”

She couldn't argue with that. “Why didn't we ever get partnered to drift, Mako?”

Mako didn't respond for a long time before she shrugged, playing it off like it didn't matter to her whatsoever. “Because the Marshal believed our talents were better used elsewhere.”

“You hold the record with Chuck and I with most simulator drops and kills,” she said. “Chuck drifts with dad. I bet you and I have compatibility.”

“It doesn't really matter at this point, does it? He had his reasons for keeping you from further testing, the same as he prefers me to focus on restoration.”

“It's a stupid reason.”

“I don't question the Marshal.Please, you should not either.” She looked at Max and reached up to squeeze at her shoulder. Max wanted to believe her conviction, but it obviously still hurt Mako after all this time. “We both have the battles to fight in our own way.”

Max just shrugged. “Maybe you and I will get Danger.” It was an errant thought, though an appealing one.

Mako looked down at that. “Marshal has plans. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on him.”

“Right,” said Max, watching her leave and wondering if that was Mako's way of leaving a conversation that made her uncomfortable.

**

The music was low, weaving with the murmurs of conversation. Max had helped herself to a few beers when the wake had started – had to pace herself – and now she was alone. Mako hadn't approached her again, not that Max really blamed her. It was probably awkward, when she barely fought anymore. Max was sure she still did, but Mako didn't go for open combat when it came to Pentecost.

She took another sip of her beer, disappointed to realize she'd already finished it and turned, heading back to the bar, wondering if she had any more American money. It was a cheap enough bar, but Max of course completely forgot to stock up on American currency.

She was digging in the sad excuse for a purse she'd been given – she was pretty sure Deb had called it a 'clutch' and Max was sure that translated into 'oversized wallet' – when someone started touching her hair. She tensed, ready to shove them, when she looked over to see Herc. He was concentrating as something pushed through her braids, snugging it in place.

She reached up to feel the waxy petal of a rose. “Really?”

“Really. Now you're perfect,” he said. “You short for a drink?”

“A little. I thought it would be open bar.”

Herc shrugged, pulling out his wallet. “Two double whisky's please, neat.”

“Right away sir,” said the bartender.

Max took a step closer to Herc's side. Her arms were cold, had been all day thanks to the stupid dress, and she was going to take a bit of warmth anyway she could.

Two glasses were set on the bar and Max picked hers up. “This is more expensive than beer.”

“You know what they say about American beer,” said Herc. “It's like making love in a canoe. Fucking close to water.”

She laughed a little and took a sip. The whisky wasn't exactly quality, but it was better than Budweiser. They walked away from the bar towards the tables, avoiding groups. Across the hall Chuck appeared to be in a hot debate with someone. She figured, by the look on the others face, he'd gone and done something offensive. “How late is the event?”

“Another hour maybe,” he said. “There's a dinner later, but I'm not going.”

“Isn't it your duty, Lieutenant Marshal?”

“Maybe. But I've got to spend some time with my kids before we get on a plane tomorrow morning. And I have to make sure you get to bed.”

“Why?”

“Little bird told me _someone's_ been pushing herself with Striker.”

“Not really,” she lied. In truth she'd been working anywhere from seventeen to twenty hour days, depending on how long her body demanded she rest. On average she was getting three to four hours of sleep a day.

“You have a terrible poker face,” said Herc. “Tendo told me you clocked twenty-one hours in Striker's guts and slept an hour in the conn pod.”

“Rat bastard. I slept on the plane.”

“Ten hours in a cargo plane, I'm willing to bet you didn't do that much sleeping. But we've got a hotel room tonight. It'll be good to see you in a bed.”

Her heart thumped a bit at the probably unintended innuendo. Chuck left his argument, turning on his heel, his face stormy as he walked past groups of people, ignoring any greetings that were given to him. He marched straight up to them.

“Why are people so damn dumb?”

Max sighed, holding out her glass. “Whatever it is, let it go.”

He took the last of the whisky and tipped it back before he wiped his lips. “Why should I? The drongo had the guts to say-”

She put her finger on his lips, raising an eyebrow and staring at him until Chuck's shoulders fell a bit and his cheeks reddened. It took a moment but he sighed and nodded. If it wasn't about jockeying it was about tech, and she didn't want to debate anything at the moment, or join in and feed his rant.

“It was about the wall,” he muttered, looking sullen.

“Well, he's allowed to have his dumbass opinion,” said Herc.

“It's just... sometimes it feels so pointless, throwing ourselves out there. Soon we won't have repair money. We won't have shit. So why bother fixing anything this time? Why bother getting back in the pod?”

No one said anything for a moment. Max glanced between Chuck's face – he was glaring at the floor – and Herc's, who was looking at the door. She was tired of everything being so turbulent.

“Why don't we go somewhere else?” suggested Herc. “It's wrapping up soon. No point hanging about.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic idea,” said Chuck.

Herc excused himself to the Marshal while Max and Chuck waited by the memorial. She looked at Lynda and Mark's faces, but Chuck didn't. She wondered if he'd even so much as looked at their picture, and what might be going on in his head.

The foyer was cool and dim compared to the banquet hall. The murmur of voices and the sound of music dropped when they were there, falling further into the background as they went to the coat check. Max was glad to put the wake behind her as they went outside.

Evolving from the miserable morning, clouds had rolled in and a drizzle had started. The pavement was wet and glittering as they left the museum, and the slow patter of drops muted city sounds. To one side groups of people were smoking, and ahead of them a line of taxi's waited for anyone ready to head back to their hotel or to go to the airport. A lot of the pilots had already left.

She had ideas of suggesting they go see a movie, or get a meal, or really just do _anything_ but she was content to follow as Herc led the way to the taxi's. The one he chose was sort of posh, a leather interior, blacked out divider window. The heater was on too, and Max sighed as she settled in between Chuck and Herc. _Warm._

The hotel was in San Francisco, but instead of asking for the Hilton Herc gave the man an address before shutting the window.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Somewhere for perspective.”

The taxi pulled away from the curb and Max kept her eyes closed as they drove down the road. She was content just sitting there, her hands clasped with her dad's and her brothers, dipping into a doze. Sure, the night hadn't even really started, but Herc was right – she was fucking tired, it was time to sleep. As much fun as hitting the town would be sleep might be best.

Max didn't know how long the drive took. Maybe a half an hour, maybe less. She didn't open her eyes until the car slowed down. She yawned, looking about, as Herc put money through the window for the cabbie and told him to reset the meter and keep it running.

She groaned a bit, when the door opened with a gust of cold air and raindrops, but she got out anyway, wondering what this was and how quickly it could end.

She stopped dead, though, as she came fully awake looking at where they were.

It was a cliff top turned into a viewpoint, overlooking the expanse of the bay. The city was behind them, and before them was the bay. The cliffs were rocky on the far side, and they almost seemed to transition into the ugliness of the coastal wall, working its way up and down the coastline. Her eyes were mostly on the remains of the Golden Gate Bridge, though.

“This is where it started,” said Herc very softly.

She remembered watching it on the news. They were only ten, staring open mouthed at the telly, some project for school they'd been building forgotten on the floor. Mum had been baking something, and it was burning in the kitchen. Dad sat down, looking on in disbelief. All of them had hoped it was a hoax or a movie as Trespasser had crashed through that very bridge, sending hundreds of cars plummeting down into the bay below, never to be recovered.

It was a sobering feeling, staring out at it, closer than she'd ever seen it before. They hadn't had time to go in the past, whenever they'd come to San Francisco.

She pursed her lips, walking towards the red painted guardrails. There were people there, either staring or walking past on paths. In one corner there was a man sleeping with a cardboard sign propped next to him – _lost my family here, can you spare something for me?_

She pulled the rose from her hair, feeling like she needed something. Just beyond the railing the pavement stopped, ragged and destroyed. The bridge slumped down all the way to the water in a jagged and impossible ramp. There were phones hung at intervals there along the rail, last ditch hopes that anyone who planned to jump to their death might reach for that one last chance at life.

Her breath fogged a moment, as she looked down and watched the ocean churning far below. Almost every pilot who had died had been killed at sea. For an uncomfortable moment, she wondered if it would ever be her. If she'd feel the cold salt water crashing into her, indifferent to everything as it filled her lungs.

She thought of Lynda and Mark, who she'd watched die as she stood in LOCCENT. They hadn't even had time for an 'I love you.'

“I'm sorry I never got on with you both,' she said, reaching out to dangle her hand over the drop, the rose pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “You deserve better. You were strong. You were fighters. You were rangers.”

She thought about the last time she had seen the couple and sighed, closing her eyes. It didn't seem right, or like enough. But she knew she'd never see them again in the mess, or laughing on the Shatterdome bay floors playing Bridge.

The rose, she noticed now, was white. She dropped it, watching it plummet to the world below until she couldn't see it. She hoped it found the water.

Chuck came up next to her, his hand finding her back. “I'm sorry too. Dad and I, we consider it your win.”

Herc came up on her other side. He had a metal flask in his hand, and she wondered where he'd been hiding it as he tipped it back and took a sip before handing it to her. The drink – she couldn't tell what it was, but she was betting whisky or scotch – burned her mouth and she wiped her lips with the back of her hand before passing it to Chuck.

Her brother took a drink before he reached out and poured the rest over the edge. The wind caught it, sending it spraying in amber droplets.

It seemed strange, a few minutes ago, being so preoccupied with the idea of sleep. Moving on. But now she was very much awake and she wanted to take them back to the hotel room and use what time they had to be with them. Ever since she'd heard about Gottlieb's math, that January might be the start of the end, she'd had a sort of nervous unease in the back of her mind. It was concentrating it now, wondering if maybe Uluru Delta could have been the real start. Thinking about the future, anything beyond winter was shrouded in an uncomfortable haze of black and uncertainty.

“This is why we fight,” said Herc.

“Yeah,” Chuck replied.

 _I'm going to lose them, aren't I?_ She thought, and shivered.

“If you're cold we can go back,” said Herc gently, as a cool gust of wind made her skirt flutter around her legs.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. Just a few more minutes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting kinda dark...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my christ I can't believe this took that fucking long. I have literally four different versions of how this could have gone on my computer and ended up deciding on the first draft because I'm like that, I guess

Herc had stepped back to let the twins have a moment alone, walking over to the homeless man and offering up what American money he had left from the wake. The man looked barely conscious as he mumbled a thank-you and Herc merely nodded, leaving him alone. He had no idea if the money would go to a meal or a place for the night, or if it would be shot through his arm to numb the pain, but he hoped at least he'd fill his belly.

The last time he'd been there was with Scott. The court martial had happened on Oblivion Island and Herc had taken Scott here first to try to give him some perspective. He didn't like remembering the day, or what came after. He didn't like knowing either that he hadn't seen Scott since and he probably would never see him again. He hoped he wasn't like the man with the sign, begging for heroin money or worse. He supposed he didn't like knowing either that Herc might be happy if he never saw Scott again. The betrayal still felt too fresh sometimes.

His phone beeped and Herc opened the lock screen. It was the commander, informing him that their flight had been moved up. The technicians were having trouble, they wanted Max.

 _Never over, is it?_ He wondered, sending an affirmative.

He didn't bother calling the twins over and he waited by the cab until they came, both of them looking sombre, hands brushing at each others sides as they walked like they wanted to hold hands.

When they got in Herc told the cabbie to take them to the hotel before he slid the partition shut.

“What about dinner? Doing something?” asked Chuck.

“Hershel moved our flight. The arm's reattached but they need Max.”

“God damn it,” snapped Chuck, obviously biting off a rant. He knew Max didn't approve of him badmouthing her team.

“We don't ship out for six hours,” said Herc. “We can get some sleep. With real beds.”

Though he wasn't sure how things were going to change when they got to the hotel. He didn't know what was going to be said, who would be sleeping where. Whatever was going to happen had been waiting over a week and he could sense the tension whenever any of their eyes met. It was too much.

Max was asleep by the time they pulled up to the hotel and he unbuckled her carefully. While Chuck paid the cabbie Herc carefully cradled her in his arms, smiling at the sleepy sound she made. He pressed his lips against her temple before he straightened out. At least there were no cameras to see her carried inside. She was going to be angry about it later.

Mako met them near the elevators. She was carrying a wet umbrella and a black satchel, and holding up a key card.

“She forgot this, when she left,” said Mako. “Room 1012. I am glad I caught you.”

Chuck glanced at Mako before he took it. The two of them did not get along. He never took kindly to Mako's criticism that he would fail as a pilot if he did not check his ego. Herc wasn't exactly in disagreement with the statement but Chuck had decided she wasn't worth his time ever since.

“Thank-you,” said Herc. “We appreciate that.”

“I'm glad she's sleeping. She didn't last night or this morning at all. Too busy with notes, and video calls.” Mako bowed once. “Good-night, Lieutenant Marshal. Marshal Pentecost wishes to meet you in the hotel bar soon to discuss a few things.”

He wasn't surprised that she knew already when they were leaving. She was a busy and dedicated girl. Though he was also sure that it was partially Mako's fault Max was so tired. He knew neither of them would have passed up a chance to share a six pack and swap ideas until the early hours.

“Thank-you. Good-night,” he said, watching Mako turn and whisk back to the hotel entrance, her duties never seeming to be done.

The elevator dinged and they stepped inside. With a small lurch it began to climb. He watched Chuck, who was gazing at Max. Max was still asleep, one hand curled on her stomach, the other clinging to one of his badges.

He let Chuck get her things while he took Max to the room. She didn't make much of a noise when he set her down on the made bed and she pushed her face into the clean pillow. He wondered if the smells that weren't of home – that were fresher, scrubbed – might help her sleep better.

He was undoing his cuff links when he heard the beep of the card key in the door and the clack of the handle. There was a thump of Chuck's bag and then silence. He never made sound when he walked. Like Herc he was deceptively light on his feet, and even the sound of the dress shoes was masked by the carpet.

He turned to look at Chuck, catching him by the arm before Chuck could slip away much further. A moment alone, a blessed moment. No doctors or cameras or the brass.

“You did good,” he said. “In the interviews.”

He saw Chuck's jaw tighten but he obviously liked the praise. “Right.”

“We need to watch our mouths. What little funding could be completely gone before long.” As he spoke he loosened the knot of Chuck's tie and lifted it over his head. Each touch of his fingers had the desired effect – even the gentle brushes against his collar were serving to relax Chuck.

“I wanted to go out tonight. It doesn't seem right, all this. We haven't, in so long...”

“And we will soon enough. Maybe back in Oz, eh?”

“Mm.” Chuck brushed his own hands over Herc's chest. “You getting out of the blues to meet Pentecost?”

“Yeah. I'll pick up dinner while I'm out. Want to be in my civvies.” He caught Chuck's hands and held them to his chest. “You keep her company while I'm gone?”

Chuck didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His eyes spoke volumes. For a moment Herc wondered when Chuck had actually gotten to be his height. But he pushed it down as he pulled Chuck in and kissed him. He'd been needing it for too long – over a month now, since that day in the bathroom – and he couldn't stop himself.

His boy gasped, body going taut a moment as his mouth opened. Chuck was such a needy thing, Herc knew. He always seemed to take things harder than Max even if he tried not to. Even if he pushed up the bravado and hid the scared little boy behind the mask.

After a moment he pulled away, watching Chuck with hooded eyes. “You take care of Max while I'm out.”

“You hurry back.”

He hung his blues up as carefully as he could and dressed in a pair of black jeans, one of the few henley's he'd brought with him, and his Lucky Seven jacket. Chuck changed too, but he was slower, his eyes on Herc.

“Be back before you miss me,” he said, and went to the bed. He leaned down and gave Max another kiss, this time on the lips. Hers pushed back in response, her hand unconsciously coming up to stroke his chin.

He gave Chuck one last nod before going to see Stacker. He doubted it was good news.

**

Once Herc had left Chuck finished ditching his monkey suit. Unlike his dad he tossed it over a chair. He couldn't be bothered to avoid wrinkles, not when it was going to be steamed and pressed in the morning.

Dressed in just his briefs he glanced at Max and considered waking her up for a shower. He could probably even pick her up and take her right in. The idea made him grin a moment, but it might not be worth the risk of getting put in an arm bar.

“I'll be right back,” he told her, and headed into the bathroom.

He was still chubby from the way Herc had handled him. Whenever he wasn't distracted with work he was usually thinking about Herc, the kiss in the bathroom, what the three of them might be like together. As he stripped off his briefs and turned on the water he wondered what was going to happen. After Max woke up, after eating. Would they talk? Would it be more?

He stepped into the spray. Normally he liked cool and quick showers. Instead he turned the water warm and leaned against the slippery wall, eyes closed. Little things like this made leaving the 'Dome worthwhile. It almost felt like there was a chance one day at having a real home, with real things like a shower or a king sized bed. He imagined having little dog stairs there like he saw sometimes on TV, Rupert climbing up to snuggle at their feet. All of them could lay in bed at once, reading, watching movies on a tablet, anything...

The door opened and he looked up. Through the glass doors he watched as Max walked in naked – or mostly, he noticed. She was wearing blue panties, the sides see-through with lace. He reached out a hand at the same moment she did, their palms and fingertips touching through the fogged glass. She looked tired, her eyes a little dark from lack of sleep.

<”Woke up because I was thirsty,”> she said. <”And I heard you.”>

She slid the door open, stepping in. Chuck moved forward, his thumbs hooking against her panties, drawing them down as they got wet and clung to her skin. Their lips found each others, soft and slow. Like it had been a few moments ago with Herc, they seemed to fit together. They were made for each other. It was almost enough to make Chuck believe in intelligent design as their tongues pressed together. How else could the two of them – the three of them – all exist?

Her torso stretched as she pushed up onto her tip toes, hands in his hair. She stepped out of her panties and his hands glided along her damp skin. He knew he should probably limit this to showering but they hadn't been apart for so long before...

He lifted her and pressed her against the wall, hooking her legs around his hips. He was hard without needing more than a few kisses. She angled her hips and gasped as Chuck helped her slide down onto him. She was wet, tight, and let out a delicate whine, a gasp of breath as her head pressed back against the wall, the locks of her red hair plastering back in a fan against the tiles.

 _< “Brother,”>_ she moaned, her lips trembling as Chuck thrust in again. < _“Please...” >_

He started moving the way he wanted to, she wanted him to. She pleaded with him in twinspeak between kisses, her hands tugging on his hair, nails scraping against skin. It was desperate and fast and exactly what they needed.

“ _Iyel uloveh,”_ he gasped, telling her he loved her as he claimed her mouth.

The moment didn't last long. Both of them, strung up from waiting too long, coming a minute apart. Max was first, letting out a trembling cry as Chuck reached between them, his fingers finding her swollen clit and gently tugging, playing with it until she was quivering around his cock and her fingers became a vice on his shoulders.

He looked into her eyes as he came with a groan of his own, body stiffening as he pressed against her harder, spilling inside her. He loved her so much it almost felt like it was ripping him into pieces. He didn't know what he'd do without her.

They slid apart after a few minutes of panting. It was an ache to have to slip out of her, to step back and give her room to breathe.

“Unexpected,” he said, and she smiled.

“I really had only meant to get a glass of water.”

He splashed her and picked up the soap that Herc had left their that morning. The water was still just as warm as they started and they washed in silence, savouring the touches, the freedom to be together without having to rush and worry about who was going to show up and see them.

When the shower turned off he kissed her shoulder, brushing her heavy hair out of the way. Reaching behind herself she ran her fingers over circuitry burns on his skin, her thumb tracing the edge of a scar.

“You should sleep more,” he said.

“With wet hair?” she asked, stepping onto the bath mat.

“No one gives a fuck. We're flying out at like two in the morning.” He rubbed her with the towel, practically making her purr. Neither of them had had a soft towel like this in too long. This was luxury. “But we've got a bed. Can't waste it.”

He crouched, drying her legs, working from calf to thigh. He noticed a glimmer of wetness from their lovemaking and he grinned, pressing a kiss to her belly button. He didn't bother wiping her dry there. He liked it more than just a little to see that she was marked with his cum.

Chuck got dressed in a pair of sleep pants, plaid and wrinkled from his trunk. Max stole one of Chuck's shirts, plain and a little ripped and almost see-through, her nipples making tantalizing shadows against the fabric, as well as a pair of older boxers. If he hadn't wanted to wait for Herc to come back before anything more happened he'd be between those long bare legs, kissing her thighs.

She sprawled on the bed – Herc's bed, where he'd laid her earlier – and Chuck joined her. They didn't turn on the TV or do anything else. He pulled her to his chest and kissed her throat again, not minding the way her hair made the pillow damp.

“You smell good,” he said.

“So do you,” she replied, her fingertips dancing against his wrist.

“What do you suppose is going to happen next?”

She shrugged. “I just hope it works out.”

**

Herc frowned as he stared at the mirrored wall of the elevator. He was carrying a bag of food in one hand, a case of beer in the other, and trying to fix his emotions. He had to get his face right, his mood right, before he saw the twins. There were things the three of them had to figure out, he had to just fucking _do it,_ tell them how he felt. Deal with the aftermath.

But Stacker's words persisted in his head. The end of the war. How Stacker wouldn't live past next spring even under the best conditions, and he refused to take much time off to go to chemotherapy.

“ _You already knew, as Lieutenant Marshal of the rangers, but in a few months we're going to do a push. And after that push I need you to step up and take control of what's left until there's nothing. I want to keep going, but I don't know if I can. Mako... doesn't know.”_

Stacks had looked so upset. He hadn't seen him like that since Tamsin had died. Herc wasn't sure he wanted the weight of the PPDC, even if by then it would just be one or two 'domes, on his shoulders.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know that meant Max and Chuck would keep fighting the last of the war. And that it could mean he'd be letting both his kids die.

 _I'm not getting younger,_ he thought.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to the room, carrying everything in one hand as he fished for his wallet. He paused though, before he pushed the key card into the slot. He stared at the door handle. They were waiting. Maybe Max was still asleep and Chuck was reading. Maybe they were both asleep. Or watching telly.

He let out a breath. All that crap about talking seemed so _useless_ with Uluru Delta dead and rusting, Mark and Lynda in their graves, and the fate of the world crumbling.

He almost hoped they were asleep.

He let himself inside, listening for sounds of the telly or even of them talking. Maybe Chuck snoring in the way he pretended he didn't. It was quiet.

“I'm back,” he said, unnecessarily, waiting for some kind of greeting.

“Hey,” was the sleepy reply from Max and he nodded, kicking off his boots and walking further inside.

“Chinese, and I found some Molson Canadian. Best I could get in bulk.”

“Ace,” said Chuck with a yawn.

The two of them were curled on his bed, Max's hair in tangles as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. He had to pause a moment as he took in the sight of her, the shirt baggy but still not concealing much. When she spread her legs, rolling on her back, the boxers didn't hide anything either and he had to mentally shake himself for a second. Chuck he was used to seeing, but...

“I've got plates...” he offered unhelpfully as Max sat straight up and scooted to the end of the bed with Chuck.

He let them sort the food, opening the paper cartons and dole out meat and vegetables and rice. He tried to convince himself to dress down like they were, but in the end all he did was take off his socks and shrug off his jacket.

“Aw, fortune cookies,” said Max, picking up the plastic covered desert. “Poor Rupert isn't hear to nosh em.”

“I'll save him some,” said Chuck. “I don't like mine anyway.”

Herc cracked a beer and ate at the small table as Chuck turned on the telly and looked for something. They all ate without speaking much, a level of awkwardness in the air that felt almost palpable to Herc. He didn't even really taste the salty Chinese food, thinking about how the doctor's back at Sydney would cluck their tongues and mutter about his blood pressure.

Just the idea of that made him feel old again, looking at his twins, so young and healthy. Again he felt the need to run and find somewhere else to sleep. Drink until last call even, and board the plane with them. Avoid talk.

“Bet I can shot gun a beer better'n'you,” said Max, watching Chuck chug half a can.

“Pfft, that foam? Your gag reflex?”

“You don't always bitch about my gag reflex.”

The room went quiet, Max's cheeks colouring as she realized what she said, Chuck staring at Herc as if he was waiting for some kind of lecture or explosion or _something._

Herc wasn't even sure what to say.

“No dirty talk at the dinner table or you both get spanked.”

Both of their faces split into identical grins.

“That a promise?” said Chuck.

“Only if you keep being bad.” The taste was coming back to his food and he took a swig of beer. Not great, but better than Bud Light. “Eat. Got no microwave to reheat it when it gets cold.”

It felt almost like another life time sitting there and eating like a family, alone.

When Max was done she picked up a handful of fortune cookies, crinkling the plastic in her hand. “One for everyone.”

“Awh, naw,” said Chuck. “Hate those things. Sweet cardboard.”

“You need to. It's good luck.”

“It's mass produced American crap that has nothing to do with actual Chinese culture,” he groused, but took the cookie that Max shoved at him.

She tossed one at Herc and he caught it with his left hand, shaking his head at the two of them. He was inclined to agree with Chuck. They were sweet, but they were bland.

“Make sure you add 'in bed,” she giggled, cracking hers open and pulling out the slip of paper. “Ohh, this is good. _Sometimes a stranger can bring great meaning to your life..._ in bed.”

“A stranger better not be in your bed,” said Chuck as Max laughed. She'd enjoyed the game ever since she was a teenager. He cracked his own with a sour look on his face but he snorted at the paper. “Apparently it's time for me to 'explore new interests' in bed.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said, taking a bite of the cookie with a crunch.

Herc opened his as the twins ribbed on each other and pulled the dry slip of paper out of the cookie. _Resistance to change doesn't stop the inevitable._ He shook his head.

“Read it, dad,” said Max with her mouth full.

“You're gross,” said Chuck, poking her side.

He tossed the paper and the cookie aside, deciding that even though it was a meaningless scrap of paper it wasn't exactly wrong.

He glanced at his phone. It was just after seven. The car taking them to the air strip would be arriving at one in the morning. Plenty of time to figure shit out.

Max shrieked, her foot lashing out to strike Chuck in the side before Chuck tackled her. A partially full can of beer splashed on the ground, her shirt was wet and going clear against the side of her breast as Chuck laughed, pinning her.

“Hey!” Herc barked, standing up.

Both of them looked at the same time, faces both surprised like they weren't expecting to get into trouble.

“Apologize. Your messing about has gone and made your poor sister all wet.”

Max looked at Chuck and grinned.

“Just getting her ready for you, old man,” said Herc.

It wasn't a complete invitation but Herc moved the second the words were out of Chuck's mouth. He leaned down onto the bed and found Chuck's mouth in a hard kiss, his hand cupping the back of the boy's head and preventing him from moving away.

Max made a little moaning sound but Herc didn't look down at her. Instead he moved and pushed Chuck back against the bed, pinning the boy like he'd been longing to do for too long. Chuck's mouth was desperate against his and the boy actually whined against him like a needy little creature, his hands bunching in Herc's shirt and pulling hard and actually making the seams creak.

He pulled away with a drag of his teeth over Chuck's lower lip, meeting his eyes, something of a warning dancing behind his eyes.

“Dad,” his boy breathed, his eyes so needy, his voice wrecked.

“All of us together, alright?” he said. “In the end that's all that we need.”

Chuck's lip trembled and Herc was going to kiss him again but then Max was there. Her mouth was just as desperate as her brothers as she pulled him down. He didn't know if it was because she felt left out or if it were his words and promise but her nails dragged against his skin and she was biting and making a little sound of need.

 _Say you love them,_ he thought, but he didn't as he succumbed to her kiss.

At first it was just kissing, alternating between the two of them or watching the way they his own kids seemed to mesh together perfectly. It was like drifting with both of them at once as he pulled them into his body and kissed, explored with his hands and felt them as if they were extensions of his own body. He thought his heart might burst from him as tingles coursed down his spine. God, he wanted them. He loved them. He'd easily die if one of them needed it.

He didn't know whose hands took off his shirt, but it was his who took Max's off. He tossed the bundle of fabric aside looking at her body like he had in the shower, seeing it with brighter light – yellow from a table lamp, blue from the TV making shadows dance over the rises and falls of her body, the tiny imperfections of stretch marks on her hips and on the side of her breasts, the texture of her pale nipples.

“She's fucking gorgeous isn't she?” said Chuck.

“Surprised you ever manage to keep your hands off.”

Chuck laughed softly.

“You two are a couple of drongos,” said Max, a blush on her cheeks.

“We're just appreciating you,” said Herc, leaning down to kiss her before he moved further to sink his teeth into her chin a moment. At his side Chuck started to mouth at her shoulder, giving Herc room to run the tip of his tongue down her throat, over her clavicle. “Every inch of gorgeous skin.”

She whimpered as Herc moved lower and Chuck pulled her face to his.

He kissed her bellybutton before biting at her hip and pushing her legs up to hook over his shoulders. She let out a tiny squeal as he bit her thigh gently, dragging his teeth towards her core as he squeezed his hands against the bunch of her muscles.

“D-daddy!”

He glanced up once through hooded eyes before he turned his head to bite at the other. Chuck had sat her up, drawn her against his bare chest. She was flushed, lips trembling as Chuck's fingertips tugged at the peak of her nipples.

“Don't know how anyone can concentrate when she wanders around with her legs bare, eh dad?”

“Completely agree,” said Herc.

He knew it wasn't too far but he had a moment of wondering what was too much, what was supposed to be the line, but Max spread her legs further, the boxers shifting enough to show the tangle of her pale pubic hair. He pushed the fabric aside and leaned in, admiring the sight for just a moment before he drew his tongue along her folds.

She cried out at that, even though the touch was brief. Herc knew he'd feel the same the first time one of them touched him, but for now this was about them. He repeated the motion, pressing harder. He found the round button of her clit and teased against it, enjoying the way her hole clenched around nothing and her thighs tightened against his neck. She tasted mild, if a bit salty. He wondered as he moved down to press his tongue inside of her what the two of them might have been getting up to without him.

“Daddy – _dad!”_ she yelped as he moved enough to slide a finger inside of her, sucking on her clit.

“That's right baby girl. Daddy likes making you feel good,” he murmured against her before moving back. He watched as Chuck pinned her arms and kissed her gasps away from her lips, making her squeaks turn soft and demanding.

He brought her close to the edge, feeling the way she began to move her hips and she began to squeeze around his fingers. Max's gasps were so high and sweet, but he pulled away slow, smiling a bit when she whined in anger, almost like an upset cat.

“You already got off once didn't you?” he asked.

“I didn't,” she said, her cheeks dark red.

“I tasted your brother there.”

“It didn't mean it was nice to stop.”

Chuck pet his fingers through her hair, scraping his teeth over her earlobe. “But maybe dad wants to have you finish with his cum in you too?”

She shuddered at that, nodding. Herc hadn't been sure exactly what he wanted next but now her hands broke free of Chuck's hold and she worked at his button and fly with quick and desperate movements. He worked with her, holding himself over her body and moving his hips in time with her pushes.

“Christ dad,” said Chuck as Herc's cock fell out of its confines, hanging heavy and dripping precum onto Max's skin. His hand reached forward to feel it and Herc sucked in a breath.

“Like the look of what made you?” he asked.

Chuck kissed him in response. “I'll like it better to see you inside Max.”

He let himself be handled with by his twins, leaning against the pillows. Max crawled on top of him to control it, her hand around the thick length of his cock and pressing it against her pubic mound a moment before she raised her hips.

Herc shuddered as the head of his cock slipped between her labia and she rubbed the tip against the her clit. She whimpered, tilted her hips again, and he moaned out loud as he sank into hear heat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been with a woman. It had been a long time. He hadn't wanted a woman like Max since Angela.

She moved a moment, taking more, her moans sounding pornographic. “God, daddy, you're big...” He reached up, hands squeezing at her hips as she rocked up and down faster, breasts starting to bounce as she took him to the root with an almost inaudible sound.

While Chuck stroked himself, moving to watch the way Herc disappeared inside of Max, Herc tried to focus on her, tried to hold on. He wasn't sure he could as he ran his hands down her body, marked her pale skin with streaks of red as he squeezed.

“You're gorgeous, baby girl,” he said, meeting her eyes.

She had tears in her eyes as she leaned forward, hands on his chest. Her kiss was messy, needy, and he gave himself to her as he thrust his hips up against her.

It took only a moment reaching between them, working the pad of his finger against her clit. She quivered around his cock with a small gush of slick, slamming her hips down against him, the bed creaking under her force.

Herc growled, holding her tight as he put his hand to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him and thrusting up inside of her. He'd had some kind of idea of waiting, drawing out some more, but he couldn't. Not when he heard her begging for him to come inside of her. He let go and fell over the edge with a silent cry, his head pressing back into the pillows.

It took a moment before he could even focus on her or Chuck. His boy leaned in for a kiss the second his head turned, he was begging to and Herc gave it to him as he reached down and stroked his cock.

“I got you baby boy,” he said, “and I won't forget you or leave you out next time.”

Chuck whined, his cock throbbing as warm cum spilled on Herc's fingers. “M'not worried about it yet.”

Herc laughed, his hand falling. On a different day he'd be offering his cum slick fingers to either one but for now he let them both cuddle against him, their warm bodies seeking more contact, sweat slick skin chilling in the exposed air. They seemed to vie for his mouth for a moment before they both relaxed and stretched out, bodies slumped.

“All of us, it's all we need,” he murmured, watching his twins close their eyes and settle onto him, looking safe, sated, warm. He wanted the moment to last as long as anything could.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you haven't all disappeared in the six month wait! I'm so sorry. I suck at life.


	8. Chapter 8

Striker Eureka was ready to launch days after another Kaiju breached and attacked Victoria, Canada. Chuck felt like they had barely gotten back from San Francisco, like no time had passed with the maelstrom of crap they were dealing with after losing Delta and finally getting to be with his father and Max both, when he had to go back to lay Folsom Witch to rest. Nothing seemed to end – the media fan fare, the questions about the validity of the Jaegers, all the crap about the wall. When they had flown over it last, nearly complete in its construction, Chuck had wanted to scream at the window. To punch every single one of those suits that had dared think that this was a viable idea, when they could be building more Jaegers, making them stronger. Better. Training pilots that could use the technology to be better.

The End seemed to loom on the horizon, an ominous threat in his dad's head that Herc tried to hide. The rumours, knowing that Max was going to want to pilot Gipsy Danger when the project was complete. It was like he couldn't control anything anymore.

Of course, thanks to the close proximity of two funerals, the PPDC had decided for another round of therapy for all pilots. The mandated therapy was monthly, and normally Chuck got away with it well enough. He'd studied up on what he had to say and do to get them to leave him alone as quickly as possible, and usually was in and out in the mandated hour with a 'thanks, see you next month.'

He wasn't so lucky this month, he guessed. Probably because on a practice drift with dad he'd thrown it out of sync. He'd just been so _angry_ that he'd thrown the handshake, and his anger had only bled into dad's until the two of them were both furious.

Cue three lectures, one from Stacker Pentecost via Skype. It was still very much fresh in his mind when he sat down across from the psychiatrist, letting Rupert wander into the corner to sleep. Normally he would have presented calmly, sit properly, said hello, used the bullshit he did on the reporters for the telly.

Instead, she noticed something was off. “Angry today, Mr. Hansen?”

He tried to force himself into an expression of calm, but Max always insisted Chuck's perfect poker face disappeared when he was frustrated. “Cool as a cucumber.”

“Anything in particular you want to talk about?”

“Naw. Just the usual, innit?”

She tilted her head. He couldn't guess her age, but he figured her to be in her late thirties. She had a young face with an Asian ancestry, and despite seeing her monthly for two years Chuck had trouble remembering her name, probably because he tried very hard to forget the sessions. All he knew for sure was she was a Kiwi.

“I'm told you had a bad drift today. What threw it out?”

“If you know about that I'm sure they told you,” Chuck muttered.

“I'm here to help.”

He let out a breath, forcing the smile to his face. “Look, my mind was caught up in stuff. It's not a big deal.”

“I think it is,” she said. “You're the most talented ranger in the PPDC, you survived a near death experience and have laid four colleagues to rest. And from what I've seen on social media, you have started blaming the wall and the rangers for starting to lose.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Look, if you already know what's in my head...”

“I know what you've said, and what's obvious.”

Before he said anything more, though, the door opened. Chuck sat up to see Herc walk in, looking fresh from the shower and in clean clothes. But he wasn't supposed to _be_ there. This was Chuck's session.

“What gives?” he asked, as Herc sat down next to him.

“I've been instructed to do sessions with you. All Rangers to do sessions with their co-pilots. Sorry I'm late.” He leaned down to pet Rupert, who waddled over to say hello.

“You couldn't have told me _before?”_

“Stacker's orders,” said Herc, looking at Chuck. “Just found out.”

Chuck clenched his jaw, his pride still stinging from the verbal beat down he'd gotten from Pentecost. The Marshal had never liked him. Chuck might get results, but he felt like lower than shit whenever the Marshal turned his gaze on him. Every time he met the man's eyes he saw the message there, _“you are valuable, but only as an instrument.”_

Not like Chuck hadn't been feeling that ever since he was a a kid. The idea that he was sending his dad here now was even more insulting.

“Whatever, fine,” he said. “Let's talk.”

**

The door never slammed, which only served to annoy Chuck more. Rupert was barking as Chuck stalked into the room, his fists clenched. He had nothing to punch, though, nothing close but a concrete wall. He spied a tube of crisps and smacked it aside, watching it bounce off of the wall. It didn't shatter or break, which would have suited him, but the act felt good.

“You want that to be my head?” he heard behind him.

Chuck turned to glare at him. “Don't be a wanker.”

“But you do want it.”

The door shut behind Herc too gently, but it seemed to be more of a promise of violence than anything else to Chuck. Because Herc was looking at him with _that_ gaze, the one that Chuck knew too well. It meant he fucked up and he just had to deal.

But when had Chuck ever just _dealt?_

“Look, I don't even like being there myself, and now you get to be there too?”

Herc crossed his arms. “I don't see what-”

“Just because you're always in my head doesn't mean I fucking want to say it out loud!” he snapped, punching the side of a metal locker without meaning to. It made a hollow sound and the pain was sweet – grounding, Chuck hated to think of it as grounding, but it was.

Herc was there a moment later and Chuck tried to shove him off. Max had seen Chuck like this, but not often. It was usually – and only – Herc who was there to catch his hands and push him down. Maybe Chuck had some kind of mental issue that a child psychiatrist might have figured out if life had been sane, but it hadn't mattered after mum died. He'd been there. Herc hadn't known what to do, so he just held Chuck down.

Chuck wanted the weight of his dad, not so angry he didn't crave it, but he also got to shove, to try to hit him. Lashing out with one fist and knowing it wouldn't hit his dad as Herc caught his hand and twisted, an ache in his arm as Herc pinned him against the metal of the bunk bed, the corner digging a hard line between Chuck's shoulder blades.

“What about Max?”

Chuck had been trying to shove again, but Herc didn't move. He was as steady as a stone pillar. “Fuck off.”

Herc moved him, getting Chuck towards the bed. This time Chuck didn't resist Herc push him until he was sitting. He let himself be trapped under Herc's weight, closing his eyes.

“Does she know what's going on up there?” Herc asked after a moment.

“No,” said Chuck sullenly. “Why should I tell her?”

“I'm pretty sure we should all know what's happening. She deserves to know.”

“She shouldn't know.”

“Know what exactly?”

“How fucking scared I am!” he snapped out. “Fine, that what you want? Is that what the shrink wants? I'm fucking scared!”

He felt drained just thinking about telling her what was in his head. They hadn't had a drift test, since Max was full time working on Striker, and Chuck preferred that. He didn't need her to know about how he felt about the rumours of her trying out to jockey in the rust bucket. The idea of her drifting with someone other than he or dad was bad enough without realizing that in the other jaeger Chuck would never be able to protect her. Not like he was supposed to.

He supposed his body going limp was what Herc had been waiting for and he let go, leaving Chuck to lay on his own. He didn't go far, though, leaving his hand on Chuck's bare arm. Chuck didn't fight that small bit of contact. There wasn't a point anymore and he just let out a sigh, letting his body lean into Herc's. He'd ignored that post-drift hangover of need and it had festered into a kind of wound of need.

“Scared about protecting her, or the rumours about Gipsy Danger?”

Chuck made a disgusted sound that made Herc sigh with exasperation.

“While the rumours are just rumours,” said Herc, “someone will have to pilot Gipsy Danger. I don't know what Stacker is thinking. He might ask her.”

“Fuck,” Chuck swore, shifting away. “He _can't._ She's ours. She's Striker's.”

“She's her own.”

He made an angry little growl in his throat as he pulled away and rolled onto his side, further into the bed and away from Herc's hand. He hadn't meant it like that, but everyone heard that when Chuck got possessive.

“I fucking _know_ that. I can't trust anyone else to protect her. 'Cept you. And you'll be in Striker with me. The idea of trusting anyone else with her in a conn pod – especially if it's Raleigh 'Runaway' Becket – makes me fucking _sick._ ”

Herc rubbed Chuck's shoulder and Chuck didn't bother throwing it off. “I don't want to trust anyone else with her, but it doesn't change the fact that the war needs soldiers.”

“Well, she might not get asked.”

“She might not,” Herc agreed. Chuck was far from believing Herc was going to drop it completely, but he supposed they'd just have to table the argument for a later time. He knew Max well enough to know if there was a shot at getting to jockey she was going to take it.

After a few moments the bed dipped and Herc's arm encircled Chuck's shoulders. He sighed, this time contented as Herc's lips skimmed the back of his neck. There probably wasn't any use to continuing to be angry. Not when he felt Herc Ghosting with him just a little bit, enough to feel that sense of uncertainty about the beginning of the next year.

Something coming. Classified.

Herc's hand stroked his side and Chuck shivered, his skin breaking out in goose flesh. “You know, I saw something else.”

“What?” Chuck muttered, more than a little distracted by the way Herc's fingers worked their way under his T-Shirt to tease at his skin.

“That green is a bad colour on you.”

Chuck rolled over to give him a glare. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He gasped as Herc crushed their lips together, his hands hooking in the loops of Chuck's cargoes to pull him in. It only took a few moments, feeling the stubble around Herc's jaw against his skin, his dad's rough lips, the warm heat of his mouth as his tongue pushed inside Chuck's mouth to taste him. It had Chuck moaning after only a few moments, light headed and dazed.

“I mean,” said Herc, tilting his head to sink his teeth into Chuck's neck, “that you're jealous of Max. That it's been a few weeks and I still haven't been inside of you.”

Chuck let himself be rolled so Herc was pinning him, the makeshift bed Chuck and Max had constructed groaning under the two of them. Herc spread Chuck's legs for him, one arm hooking under the right so he could grind his hardening cock against Chuck's ass.

“M-m'not...”

“You've always been impatient,” Herc chuckled. “But we have been practising. And I saw you have been too.”

Chuck flushed a dark pink at that. He had tried to keep that a secret but obviously Herc saw everything. It wasn't fair. He didn't want anyone to know about what he did in the shower, or when he had the room to himself. Fantasizing about his daddy taking him while Max kissed him, pet him.

“What about Max?” he murmured, when Herc pulled away again to brush his lips over Chuck's cheek, one hand working away at the fly of Chuck's pants.

“I warned her to keep away from the room for a bit. Said I wanted some one on one time with you.”

Chuck felt guilty. “What did she say?”

“She demanded she gets to watch next time.”

He felt his body flush with heat, tingling up and down his back as Herc pulled away to pull of Chuck's pants.

“You were a brat,” said Herc, tossing them aside. “You are going to answer to plenty to the psychiatrist, and to the Marshal, and the Commander. Even to me, later, but for now... now it's you and me.”

“You mean I'm not answering to you now?”

The slap of Herc's hand against his ass, still covered with his boxers, made Chuck hiss and arch his back. That was a little something he knew he really had a problem with, him and Max both. His dick pulsed, an ache that made him groan as his boxers started to get damp.

“You are,” said Herc. “For being a naughty boy.”

“ _Fuck,”_ he gasped, before he tried to squirm. “Dad, I-”

Herc's hand slapped against him again and Chuck moaned louder, trying to fight back that feeling in his cock. He wasn't afraid of cumming too soon, but he wanted to draw it out as long as possible.

“But I also want to show you your dad cares.”

_I do,_ he thought, reaching forward to push off Herc's vest. _I know you love me._

Still, he might like to hear it one day.

It was like there was a place they both desperately wanted to reach. There was no preamble or build up as the last of the clothes found their way to the bed or floor, no hesitation as they moved together. Herc was big and solid and Chuck couldn't stop himself scratching at him, feeling the hardness of Herc's muscles as they kissed and Herc teased his cock between Chuck's cheeks.

“You want this?” Herc asked, his breathing ragged.

“Want it like the drift. Want it-” he arched almost like a cat as Herc dragged his teeth down Chuck's neck. “I just want to not think about later.”

He had no idea where the lube came from, just that there was the sound of a lid, the cool touch of his dad's fingers against his hole. He groaned, feeling himself open up as Herc pushed the tips of his fingers inside of him. But Chuck had been practising and he was more than ready as he relaxed. Max said she hated the sensation, but Chuck loved it. Loved even more being taken by Herc, being smaller, being his boy. Being everything, for just a minute, the way he and Max were everything to each other.

It was only a few minutes, he was sure, before he was begging. “I'm ready, just do it – just fucking – _fuck!”_

“Impatient,” said Herc again.

Chuck practically sobbed when Herc's fingers pulled out. He wondered if this was how good Max felt when one of them pressed inside of her. He was leaking all over his stomach to feel the head – and Christ, was it only the head, it felt huge – enter him.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“We're alive,” said Herc into Chuck's ear, as he flexed his hips, maybe only enough for a centimetre or two, but enough to make Chuck moan almost like an actor in a porno.

He had to keep himself from making these embarrassing noises, noises he never even managed to make with Max, and he needed his dad to just stop talking. So he kissed Herc, bringing his face down, biting whenever Herc tried to pull back. Chuck was demanding and hooked his ankles behind Herc's legs and he tugged, gaining a little more and groaning into his dad's lips at the feeling as he shook.

Taking the hint, Herc stopped talking and just made his thrusts longer, deeper, oh so slowly. It wasn't fair that girls had the ability to take so much so quicker, but at the same time the waiting versus Chuck's need and impatience was delicious. He had time to enjoy it, to feel the way his daddy completely filled him.

He was shuddering when he felt Herc bottom out inside of him, the full and warm press of his hips against Chuck's cheeks, the way his thick cock was stretching him wide. Whimpering, Chuck shuddered again and Herc kissed the corners of his eyes almost like Chuck was crying. He could be, but he couldn't tell.

When Herc started moving quicker Chuck had to hold on, his entire body practically frozen. He wanted to breathe – knew he had to – but his breath came in gasps, holding it to keep from completely losing, to try to control whatever it was that was building in his gut, building to a part that had Chuck ready to scream.

“Breathe,” said Herc, his voice like velvet in Chuck's ear.

“Dad-”

“ _Breathe.”_

Chuck sucked in a breath and Herc's hand found Chuck's cock, stroking, his fingertip pressing against the end of Chuck's cock, palm moving upwards and following that aching twitch of Chuck's dick, that hint of _more._

His breath came in a few more even draws, longer, edged with need, and then he was coming, unable to stop himself as he tossed back his head. He was there, pressed down, wrapped around. It was... everything.

“Daddy,” he begged.

Herc continued to fuck him another minute – maybe more, maybe less, before he bit down on Chuck's neck and his hands tightened around Chuck's hips. His muscles practically felt like stone under Chuck's hands and feeling that first pulse – Chuck was so sensitive, to every push and pull – made another smaller orgasm streak through him even though he had barely any cum to give.

The bed groaned as Herc collapsed over him and Chuck let himself be enveloped. He panted, mind slowly clearing, unable to remember why he had been upset, why he had needed dad to hold him down. He wondered what Max would have thought to see dad take him like this. If she'd maybe be just a bit jealous too. He missed her in that moment, her soft hand, her laugh.

He had no idea how to deal anymore. He closed his eyes and Herc kissed him again, easing out oh so slowly. He didn't even react when Herc used Chuck's boxers to clean them up, and opened his mouth obediently to accept water from a bottle.

Licking water from his lips, Chuck rolled so his face was pressed against Herc's hairy chest. “Dad are we gonna be okay?”

“I can't read the future, baby boy.”

“Can you just say we will be then?”

“Alright.” His voice was reassuring at least. “We will be.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter than I normally like, and I apologize if it reads hectically. But Chuck's got a lot of anger that needs to be addressed, to be honest. I always kind of envisioned instead of Herc trying to talk him down he just sort of 'times out' Chuck by holding him. But the war is starting to draw to a close...


	9. Chapter 9

No one had bothered taking down the Christmas Tree. 

Of course, usually it stayed up until new years, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising, but it seemed like a kind of waste. Max walked into the commissary, looking at the tree. It was the same green plastic thing as it was every year, hidden away in some closet, decorated by some of the techs and one or two of the kids that stayed there with their parents, not unlike Chuck and Max. Wrapped in multicoloured fairy lights it lit its corner of the mess with a muted rainbow glow. A few people had commented it gave them hope. Max only thought it was a dirty reminder of the past.

She had left Chuck and Herc sleeping and gone off to wander, hardly caring that she wasn’t much dressed. No one was around, the place was a ghost town with only a few other depressed servicemen and LOCCENT people around, probably all sleeping off New Year's Eve.

She walked up to a table and chose a corner mostly free of plastic beer cups, bottles, and paper plates littered with cake crumbs. The metal was cold on the backs of her legs as she sat down, curling her toes on the bench. She had a little bit of a headache from a hangover herself but she’d drank a bottle of the electrolyte drink lovingly called Kaiju Piss and had a few tylenol. Despite that, it didn’t really stop her from reaching over and picking up a bottle of sparkling wine.

It was half empty, barely fizzing when she shook it. It was probably a ten dollar bottle of something cheap and would taste disgusting warm and flat, but she took a sip anyway, swallowing down a grimace. The tree was decorated with all kinds of baubles, things brought from across Australia and even the world. Not everyone in the Sydney Shatterdome was Australian.

Not that it mattered much anymore. She took another sip, wincing a little less. The ‘Dome was done anyway. Doors closed, no more supplies coming in. One by one, all personnel were being filtered out. What important scraps were left were heading to Hong Kong. Dad had told them yesterday, and hinted at them moving as well, but with Striker officially considered retired from active combat she didn’t see much coming. Even Commander Hershel had disappeared after his dismissal, handing over command to both Loccent and Herc.

Stupid, considering the doomsday clock was ticking down so low that another event could happen at any moment, and they’d have nothing but Crimson Typhoon to save the day, and only then if it went to Hong Kong. Vulcan and Echo weren’t deactivated like Striker, but they were being prepped for transport.

There was a sound somewhere from beyond. She’d gotten used to the ‘Dome sounding like a crypt, so the metal slam of a door made her twitch just a little. The entire building seemed like a mausoleum.

There was the sound of boots behind her. She took a sip of the sparkling wine again, leaning forward a bit and slouching so whomever it was also wouldn’t see that Max hadn’t particularly given a shit about wearing a bra, just like she was wearing a pair of Chuck’s boxer shorts.

“Wondered where you went,” said Chuck.

She smiled. “Mornin. No Rupert?”

“He’s sleeping off a cake and sausage coma on dad’s feet.”

There was a scrape as Chuck nudged old steel platters aside before he joined her. He had his cargoes on, but no shirt, his tags dangling over his chest. He smelled like the bed and sweat, and Max liked it, leaning in to rub her cheek on his shoulder. His skin was warm.

“Why are you down here?”

“The refreshments,” she said, holding up the bottle.

He took it and studied the label. “Gross.” He took a swig anyway, though.

She threaded their fingers together and closed her eyes. She had no idea why she was even up at this hour - they’d been partying until three, and it was barely eight. She still had a pleasant muscle ache from the dancing, from the sex afterwards, having her daddy and her brother take turns with her. She almost thought she could feel their fingertips still, but she didn’t have much in the way of bruises to prove anything, except maybe where she’d been pressed hard into the metal frame of the bed.

“Remember that Christmas when mom dressed us up in white boomer sweaters with the hoods and big tails off the back, and had us jumping about the back yard?”

“We were young. I hardly remember.”

“It’s the year we figured out the Santa deal. When we made the trap on our bedroom door and instead of catching Santa we caught dad sneaking in to fill our stockings.”

She grinned. “That I do remember. It was years before I could laugh about that. I mean, when we tripped him we broke his nose dislocated his shoulder, and then Leo jumped all over him to help. We had all our tools taken away and dad triple locked the shop after that.”

“I miss Leo.” 

She nodded. He was their dog, and he’d never survived Sydney. She sighed, thinking of his big wrinkled face and slappy feet. The Hansen’s had always had bulldogs. When they’d first gotten Rupert it had been a relief to have a dog again. He’d been their academy graduation present. 

They both looked at the glowing fairy lights on the tree a while, passing the bottle back and forth, though she would have preferred a cup of strong tea or coffee. Maybe a nice prelude to breakfast if she could find things to cook, since most of the kitchen staff were hungover or had left for home. She was starting to get drowsy, and another sort of pleasant buzz in her fingertips, when an alarm slammed all thoughts of breakfast clean out of her mind.

They both turned to see the kaiju alert screen. It was up as a gesture only, since they weren’t officially launching.

“Crap,” she said, “we’ve only got enough Loccent for Echo and Sabre to get picked by the jumphawks and taken to the carrier.”

Chuck was up first, his first instincts. He wasn’t going to be deployed, but she could see him practically vibrating with the urge to get out there. After a moment she got to her feet too. She at least wanted to go to Loccent and learn what she could, keep on top of the situation. She couldn’t go in her pajamas though.

“Let’s go before dad comes looking,” he said.

In the room Herc was already up, the door to the bathroom open and sounds of the shower could be heard. Rupert was barking between bites of his brekkie, running around the steel bowl. The kaiju alarm always got him wound up, and his nub of a tail was wiggling.

She thought for a moment about joining dad, no doubt because she smelled like booze and sex, but she doubted everyone was going to be in fine form so she picked up a clean pair of coveralls and a bra.

There was a call at the console just after she was dressed and working her hair back into a ponytail. Herc answered it, still shirtless. Max looked over to see the Loccent officer that had replaced Tendo appear, Jenna Bautista. She was a junior officer who usually did tests.

“We could use extra hands at Loccent. I know you two are decommissioned, Herc, but the displacement shows the Kaiju is moving south. Too fast for Hong Kong to respond.”

“I can get Striker ready if I can use what’s left of my team,” said Max. “She doesn’t need much.”

“We’ll leave that to Marshal Pentecost to decide. Get up to Loccent. The Marshal will be on the line shortly.”

The feed cut out, leaving Max feeling on edge as she shoved her feet into her boots. If the kaiju was coming down, Striker might be heading out again. But it would piss off the Marshal. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but from what she gathered Striker wasn’t to deploy under any circumstances.

“We can’t just sit by when we can help,” growled Chuck.

“We’ll do what we’re fucking told,” said Herc. “Stacker has good reasons-”

“Fuck them! We’re the best! And you think that wall will hold?”

They were in the hall now, Max’s strides double to keep up with Herc and Chuck. It wasn’t fair, being shorter. “What exactly are the Marshal’s reasons?”

Herch sighed. “You would figure it out soon enough, but,” he stopped, looking back at them. “We’re going to Hong Kong soon too. We’re needed to hit the Breach.”

Her eyes widened. “But so many Jaeger’s have been lost doing that! It’s pointless!”

“The Marshal’s got a plan. He’s been playing it close to his chest. We have to trust him.”

Neither of the twins replied, but she was staring at Herc’s back as they resumed the fast pace to the elevators. She hated being in the dark.

With Loccent personnel diminished the room was a flurry of movement of remaining tech’s and anyone else capable to help out. Monitors showed that the kaiju was moving fast, faster than they’d be able to intercept with Crimson Typhoon. 

“Category IV,” said Jenna, standing beside the display screen, “we’ve codenamed it Mutavore. It’s moving very, very fast. It looks like it has the same biological propulsion system that Rachnid had. It could be here in four hours.”

“Not a lot of time,” said Herc. “I’m calling up Marshal Pentecost. Jenna, come with me, we’ll figure out who to delegate.”

The two of them whisked off to the far corner of Loccent, leaving Max and Chuck looking at the readouts. Mutavore was moving very fast, and early data showed the way it sucked in water through gills at its shoulders and expelled it from its hips. 

“That thing moves faster than the most advanced torpedos the earth has,” said Chuck.

“I can get Striker ready to launch at least,” said Max. “Four hours should do it. Even if she doesn’t-”

“Vulcan has this,” said a voice, cutting in. Max turned to look at Heidi Steele, standing tall at over six feet, her blonde hair bunched back into a bun. She looked tied, just like everyone else, but determined. “We’re still ready for launch.”

“If this thing’s still as strong as Dreadnought was from a few weeks ago, you’ll need more than just you and Saber,” said Chuck.

It had been a tough fight, back on December 12th, and a three Jaeger drop. No serious damages, and it was unclear who bagged the kill - Striker or Saber. It was a point of soreness with Heidi especially. As one of the remaining Mark III’s she’d been in active duty almost as long as Herc and she had less than half of his kills. While her wife Audrey didn’t talk much Max was sure it bothered her too, though she couldn’t be sure. Audrey had the best poker face in the Shatterdome.

Heidi leveled a glare at him. “You worry about your own hide, Hansen Junior.”

“In case you haven’t forgotten, he and dad are the better jockey’s,” Max snapped, her irritation bubbling over. Normally she liked Heidi, but since Uluru went down Vulcan had been taking more risks, trying to earn some kind of name as more than a solely defensive Jaeger.

“Why you little-” Heidi’s cheeks went dark as she balled her fists. “That’s a big claim from someone who was never assigned as anything more than a back-up.”

“My drop statistics-”

“Don’t mean shite when you were given that title just to keep you from having a temper tantrum! And now you’re lecturing us! We’ve actually killed a kaiju. You’re just a mechanic who thinks she’s special.”

Max saw red and was moving, fists coming up before the thought was even formed. Chuck tried to grab the back of her coveralls but it was too late. Heidi threw the first blow, but Max knew her style. Vulcan always worked defense, and it helped, but Max fought like her father and Chuck - fought like Striker.

Despite the few hits she took, Max still had a moment of deep satisfaction at the way she made Heidi’s lip split.

“Cut it out! NOW!” Herc barked, his hand enfolding around Max’s arm and yanking her back. “I am your Lieutenant Marshal and acting Commander of this Shatterdome, for what the word is worth now. And you  _ both _ will  _ stand down. _ Heidi, I don’t want to ground you, but do you think I won’t, baiting fights like a child when we’ve got a monster at the gates?”

Audrey put a hand on Heidi’s arm, shaking her head. Heidi pursed her lips, making an ooze of blood run down her chin, before she shook her head. “No sir.”

“And before you think you’ve escaped punishment, you’re still a classified ranger and you better fucking act like it,” said Herc, turning to glare at Max.

“Yes sir,” she said, before her eyes dropped.

“Now, we’re down to minimal launch teams, and those Jaeger’s need to be prepped for combat and not just transport. Marshal Pentecost will just have to deal with Striker having her K-Stunner’s loaded, and we’ll boot her up. Both Vulcan and Echo need their weapon systems online and primed. I want their reservoirs filled to capacity before launch to minimize charge times. This means we have to move as fast as we can. According to recent data, we’ve got less than four hours to get it done and both Jaeger’s out to the Miracle Mile past the wall. Understand?”

“Yes Lieutenant Marshal, sir!” said the Rangers in unison. 

“Kaede and Haruka are already down with Echo and what remains of their team. The rest of you, get moving. Max, you’re going to work solo on Striker with her team until we can free up other man power.”

“Those rockets take two hours at the best time, with just me and five men-”

“Make it count. All of you, move. Jenna, I want constant updates. You keep on that kaiju, I want to know where and when this thing’s going to hit. We won’t be able to move fast so we’ll need to minimize damages. Get major cities on the north and the east coast on full alert along with New Zealand, and start evacuating.  _ No more infighting. _ We’ve got something to kill.”

She frowned, but nodded. She wasn’t going to let anyone down. 

**

Mutavore went for Sydney. It was slowed through the Solomon Islands, leaving reports of a few wrecked fishing vessels and a coastguard ship, and picked up speed in the Coral Sea. The few reports given from eyewitnesses seeing it make land on an island for the briefest of moments suggested it was more sluggish on land, with a hard shell, and a crest that sliced through tankers as it launched itself like a torpedo through the water. 

When Mutavore surfaced Max was in Loccent watching Striker. She was being flown by Jump Hawk into Sydney, to be dropped in Surrey Hills and defend behind the wall.

She was trembling when she watched the feed, knowing she was supposed to be focusing on Striker and how she was doing, but her eyes were on live footage of Mutavore carving its way through Vulcan as if she was made of paper.

_ “We’ll make it through. We always have, _ ” dad had said before going, giving her a kiss on the head. 

She wasn’t so sure, now.

The ‘Dome was located closer to The Gold Coast off the Pacific Highway than Sydney, and Striker wasn’t due in for about fifty minutes.

_ You can do this, _ she thought, looking at the time ticking down, as Mutavore finished with Vulcan and turned to Echo,  _ please, all of you… I’m sorry Heidi… _

She closed her eyes as the two life signs in Vulcan Spectre disappeared, Heidi’s cutting out ahead of Audrey.

“If there is a god, I hope he hears our prayers,” said Jenna from Max’s right. 

She said nothing, but she agreed as she pressed her fists against her forehead.

**

The wall fell in forty-three minutes and twelve seconds from the first strike of Mutavore’s claws, which happened twenty-one minutes and fifty four seconds since first interception.

Striker had it down in less than fifteen minutes, but Max was still shaking as everyone cheered and Rupert barked, turning circles around people’s feet. He knew what cheering in Loccent meant. Treats, pets, and the return of two of his favourite humans.

_ Not many scratches, _ she thought blankly, looking at her charts.  _ Need a full diagnostic. Few sensor issues, couple systems malfunctioning, all minor. Angel Wings took a smack, and one Sting Blade needs replacing, but we’ve still got a couple backups… Thank god we’ve got a good cache of K-Stunners… _

Someone slapped her back and Max merely rocked forward, looking down at her feet. Ever since Uluru she had more and more trouble getting excited, feeling… anything, other than a dreaded sort of relief. The mounting tension wondering how long until the next, and the next, and the next…

“Marhsal Pentecost on the line for you, Hansen,” said someone.

Max looked up at them. Another Junior Loccent tech. “You sure it’s not for dad?”

“He asked for Maxine. Pretty sure that’s you.”

She got to her feet and walked over to where the officer waved. Pentecost was there on screen looking the same as he always did - grim and determined. Behind him she could see Mako and Tendo bending over something, but she didn’t look at them for long.

“I hear you’re causing as much trouble as ever, Ranger,” said Pentecost. “But you’ve kept Striker Eureka on her feet.”

“I try, sir,” she said, standing a little straighter at being called Ranger by him.

“As I’m sure your father told you, your assignment is moving to Hong Kong. I would have preferred the work be done there in Sydney, but with Vulcan and Echo down we can’t afford to wait. You and Chuck will be briefed when we arrived, but I’m having some schematics sent to you. They’re hasty, but I’m sure you’ll be able to modify them and implement them before the week is up.”

“Sir?” she said. “I don’t have the funding to-”

“We’ve got funding,” said Pentecost, cutting her off. “And you’ll have extra staff on hand.”

“What are the mods for, sir?”

“A harness of sorts, for a payload. That’s all you need to know for now. The other thing I need is any data you can send of your recent drifts. We’re compiling a log for compatability.”

She said nothing, sucking in a tight breath.  _ That meant trials, that meant piloting Gipsy Danger, that meant…  _ She could hardly breathe, and her voice was very soft next. “Then Raleigh Becket-”

“We’ve found him. But I want you to focus on those schematics. I need Striker to be able to deliver a package safely before the week is out.”

The screen went blank.

She stared at the transparent glass and plastic monitor a moment, her mind taking a slow moment to change gears from a possible drift to what the schematics were for. A moment later her tablet beeped from an e-mail.

A payload. She might only be military in the loosest sense - the PPDC was always considered a civilian outfit, even if most of its personnel were military - but she knew the slang. She wasn’t stupid.

“Oh my god,” she said, leaning forward and gripping the monitor tight.

_ Too much, too much, _ she thought, as she tried to remember to keep her lungs working. Why couldn’t everyone stop celebrating for a goddamn moment?

She let out a small moan.

Stacker was going to strap a bomb to her father and her twin and send them nearly eleven kilometers under the ocean’s surface to the Breach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the end comes marching closer...
> 
> Thank-you everyone, for all your support. I think there's only a few chapters left. Hard to say exactly. I'm not even positive at the moment. I'm mostly surprised I managed to get this far.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am apparently on fire with the writing which is really really weird and I hope it lasts.

Max didn’t sleep. With Herc and Chuck inside of Striker’s conn pod for the ride - with zero transmissions to read, because she wasn’t plugged into Loccent - she had stayed up and gone over the schematics. She was alone in the cargo bay of one of the jumphawks, having chosen it for privacy. The flight had started at four in the afternoon, once they’d refueled the ones needed for Striker, and they’d stopped long enough to pick her up and the teams who had begun to load all necessary equipment for Striker’s repairs.

She did wish that she had chosen her spot a little better. This particular helicopter was one of the ones with canisters and samples of kaiju parts, causing a faint ammonia smell to permeate the rest, but they hadn’t had much room to spare. The few things she’d packed were jumbled together in boxes nearby, a photo album forgotten on top. She’d pawed through it until it had been too much.

Now she stood up and walked over to a cloth covered cylinder. She already knew what was under it, but she was still nervous as she crouched and pulled the curtain up to look inside at the green glowing soup with the  _ thing _ inside. According to one of the dock hands it was some kind of gland. He’d said it was nothing, though, compared to other finds. Apparently one of the other transports had a piece of  _ kaiju brain. _ Only one of the secondary brains, and again only a piece, but the man had informed her it was wiggling.

“Gross,” she muttered, thinking about a piece of it still being alive after killing both Vulcan and Echo’s pilots.

Once upon a time she’d been fascinated with K-Science. If she’d liked biology more than mechanics she might have gone there, but engineering had been her calling, and she never would have gotten along with the Kaiju Groupies. Too many of them saw kaiju like big elephants or rhinoceros and not the poisonous mass killer that they were. Never mind the strange fetishes some of them seemed to have. She’d hated the biologists at Sydney, especially after one of them screamed at her father for crushing a kaiju too much.

She dropped the curtain, cursing a bit when the helicopter wobbled, and then walked over to one of the windows. It was light out now, and she winced when she moved the shutter aside. They’d been flying for hours with only a few short fuel ups. Beyond them Striker was a giant shadow in the mist and rain. Despite the sun above the clouds everything was trapped inside a grey fog. Rain pelted the windows.

She slid the cover back down.

Mako had called her, specifying what she needed for the trials. Her voice had been cool. Businesslike. Nothing at all like it had been when they had last seen each other in San Francisco and had stayed up late drinking.

When Max had asked her if she’d be testing as well, Mako had ended the conversation and cut the call. Obviously Pentecost still had some angry words on the subject.

The jumphawk wobbled again, and she could feel the decent. She didn’t have her headphones on, so she had no idea what the pilot might be saying, and decided she might as well buckle into her harness.

As she sat back down, her hands working the buckles tiredly, she thought about Herc and Chuck out in Striker’s head. At least they had each other to talk to, think to. All she had was Rupert, who was somehow managing to snore away in his crate.

Max had been over the schematics. It would be a busy few days. She had to start repairs the moment they docked, and according to Mako she’d be doing drift trials on the third at 0800. Not a lot of time.

The schematics tried to redact what she was supposed to be attaching to the harness, but she already knew, considering the extra shielding she’d be putting on Striker’s back between the wings, and behind the conn pod. 

_ A nuke. A fucking nuke. _

Her only solace was that whomever had drafted these - probably Mako - had included designs for a timed release. They’d need adjusting, but she was sure she could get it done. The operation, whenever it was, would take some time.

The shielding she could leave to the others, even the harness wasn’t going to be hard. But she’d be running that release circuit her damn self. She wasn’t going to let them die down there while she stood in Loccent and watched.

She hardly even considered that she might be in a conn pod herself.

The landing was rough, a storm gripping Hong Kong harbour. It was colder than it had been down south and Max was feeling it when she finally got to disembark proper. The wind made her teeth chatter as the door opened and a whip of wet wind pelted her and the rest of the cargo, making Rupert howl.

Max was carrying a box of her tools, Rupert at her feet. Outside she was met by a sweep of rain and no greetings as the deck hands moved past her to get her things. They were all labeled Hansen so she hoped they’d make it down to their room, wherever that was.

The air pad was wet, the rain almost to the first laces of her work boots, and the wind of the blades turned everything into a mess. She was soaked in a matter of moments, thankful she at least had her dad’s heavy leather jacket on.

Rupert woofed mournfully.

“I know boy,” she said with a little sigh, looking to the west. Striker was being settled in the water where she’d be locked in on the crawlers and moved inside.

Hair plastered to her forehead she made her way inside, wondering where the hell she ought to go. She’d never been to Hong Kong, had never really expected to spend time there, and she was more than a little miserable feeling as she tried to find her way to a lift so she could get inside and figure out where the launch bay’s were. She wished Mako were there, but she was probably busy.

Just as a door opened, someone barreled out of it with a loud yell. “It’s here! It’s here!”

She jumped as a man just a little shorter than her shoved past her, making her stumble and Rupert bark as she hit the slowly opening bay door with a grunt, her tools clattering in the box.

“Hey you fucking fruit loop! Watch where you’re going!” she yelled after him, getting only a glimpse of his tattooed arms and his spiky hair before he disappeared into the rain and straight to the jumphawks.

“You can’t mind Newton, he only runs in two mindsets - obsessive cluelessness and sarcastic twat.”

She turned to look at whomever was addressing her. He was maybe her height, thin and gaunt, with a wide mouth, and wearing a parka. She recognized him well enough, though it took a moment. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, right?” she asked. “I read some of your papers. Your theories that both String Theory and Quantum Loop Theory were both wrong and right were very interesting. I’m sorry they didn’t get much traction.”

“The cads in Geneva don’t like the idea that they might be wrong,” said Gottlieb, extending a pale hand to her. She shook it awkwardly - his fingers were freezing, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t shivering and dripping wet either as she made her way down the hall. “They might act as if the greatest gift a scientist can be given is to be proven wrong, but they lie. Even when an interdimensional portal lies at the very deepest part of the ocean they’d rather bicker over the racing horses they’ve always backed.”

She smiled a bit. She had never met him, but he seemed a good sort. His German accent was faint, and he seemed to have a stick up his butt considering the way he moved, but she’d liked his articles and the TED Talks she’d watched him do about the science behind the Breach.

“I’ve sort of been forgotten,” she said, hoping he could help her. “My name is-”

_ “What do you mean my brain isn’t here yet?” _ she heard the other man screech out on the tarmac.

Gottlieb snickered. “And it never will be,” she heard him say under his breath.

“I’m assuming he’s not into physics.”

“Oh, he’s well enough with it. Newton Geiszler is a brilliant scientist. But he prefers  _ parts _ to equations.” Gottlieb did a good job making it sound like something dirty and sexual you shouldn’t so much as reference. She knew Gottlieb was married, but it made him sound monkish.

The man - Newton Geiszler - appeared again. She’d heard of him, though she’d never even seen a picture. His shirt was sticking to him, since he’d run out into the pouring rain without a jacket Under the translucent fabric she could see even more tattoos. Up close they looked Japanese. There wasn’t much else to him, besides glasses so fogged with rain she doubted he could see, and that he had a bit of a paunch.

“I mean, the secondary pituitary gland is fine and all,” Geiszler was muttering, “but I want that  _ brain.” _

“So you can complete your insanity?” said Gottlieb.

She sighed as the two started bickering, following them to the lift. 

“Look,” she said, after a moment or two of irritation, “ I need to find J-Tech or the launch bays.”

They both looked at her. “Who are you?”

“Max Hansen, and I-”

Geiszler raised an eyebrow. “Like Herc Hansen’s miracle daughter? The engineer.” His tone was insultingly incredulous, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing.

“Yes,” she said icily. She rarely disliked people so quickly, but she was getting ready to do a tap dance on his head.

“You look more like a centerfold - one of those college girl things.”

_ “I will fucking end you, you-”  _ she started to hiss out from between clenched teeth when Gottlieb waved his cane between them.

_ “Schnautze!” _ Gottlieb jabbed the cane at Geiszler. “What my mindless colleague means is that you are very pretty for an engineer, and look very young.”

Her jaw clenched. “You’re lucky I don’t want to drop my tools.”

Geiszler sputtered a moment as Gottlieb pressed a button. “There, this will take you down to the floor for the launch bays. Tendo Choi will be able to help - I do believe he’s down there.”

The elevator ride was nothing but steely silence as she glared at Geiszler, willing him to make eye contact and start something. Geiszler, however, had turned around and began to read a shipping manifest upside down to avoid her.

_ Lovely start, _ she thought sarcastically, as the lift doors dinged open. Max couldn’t get away soon enough. Gottlieb at least managed to give her another apologetic look, and it made Max smile to hear him turn upon Geiszler with another flurry of angry German.

The Launch Bays at least looked like Sydney, even if she couldn’t see Vulcan or Echo. The first she noticed was Crimson Typhoon, and she let out a little whistle as she stood there with Rupert on her heels, snuffling about on the concrete. 

Crimson was beautiful, probably her favourite Mark IV, especially considering the complex systems up there in the conn pod. Just to see the way the artificial synapses worked with the triple drift would provide Max with hours - days - of study. She wished she could, but perhaps after all of it was over, and if the world wasn’t destroyed, she might get the chance.

She looked down at the entrance of Crimson’s bay and saw three men, perfectly identical, playing basketball. They didn’t seem to observe the rules, but merely followed an intricate dance between the three of them. It made Max think of the drift training and drills she used to do with Herc and Chuck, before they were on red alert all the time.

Feeling safely anonymous, she headed further in, neck craned. There was an open bay door further down, so she figured that was probably Strikers. Beyond it she could hear the crashing of the surf and the grinding of gears, cold wind whipping up smells of grinding dust, heated metal and sparks.

The Kaidanovsky’s were there, sitting at a table while some sort of dance music belted from an ancient looking boom box, the sort of thing that would have been retro when she was a child. They didn’t seem to notice her either. Sasha was tapping her foot while Aleksis was painting her nails red. It seemed funny.

“Hey sweet pea!” someone called, and she turned to see Tendo walking forward out of a bay that was covered with the long, heavy plastic sheeting they used during construction. In fact, she was willing to bet it was the radiation shielding they had for old Mark III’s.

“Hey Elvis,” she said teasingly. He was a sight for sore eyes. He’d left months ago, when things had gotten rough.

“Here,” he held out a small pill box. “Striker’s bay is next to Gipsy Danger, and since we’re still doing some work on her core, you’ll need this.”

Inside were regular chalky white pills. She picked one up. “Potassium Iodide?”

“That’s right,” he said. “We’ll have something for Rupert soon enough. I forgot to find a way to get it animal-safe. I’m sure a half will do.”

“I’m sure,” she said, watching as Tendo stooped to squish Max’s face. 

“Did you have a good trip?”

“Well enough.” She looked over to see Striker being moved in on the crawlers. Striker never worked with a remote drop using the Conn Pod unless it had been removed for repairs, so she also saw a gangway waiting for them to exit, and  a lift nearby it. “I went over those schematics the Marshal sent me.”

“And?”

“A fucking bomb,” she muttered.

“Noticed that huh?” Tendo looked nervous. Probably hadn’t been allowed to tell her.

“A  _ nuclear _ bomb.”

“Never said that.”

“Then what’s the radiation shielding for?”

He shrugged. 

She made a growling sound in her throat, starting towards the bay, muttering about putting away her tools, seeing her team. From one of the main cargo doors, large transports loaded with K-Stunner’s were already driving towards the bay where they’d be picked by the overhead crane.

Tendo didn’t leave her be though. “Look, kiddo-”

“Oi, don’t kiddo  _ me.” _

“I can’t talk about it, is all. You know that.”

“And what can you talk about? How dad and Chuck are going to die trying to blow up the Breach without any concrete data that it will help? Last time someone blew it up, two Jaeger’s went down and we had an event a week later. Never found the bodies because it was too deep and there was nothing but scrap left anyway.” She threw her tools down on a bench, pausing to wring out her hair before she shrugged off the bomber jacket. At least the top of her coveralls were dry as she pulled up her tablet to pull up the plans. A moment later there was a hologram in front of her, the additions in orange.

“I can say we’ve all got a good feeling about this. New data.”

“Mm.”

“And we’ve all got big hopes about trials, too.”

She paused a moment, in the middle of zooming in on the conn pod. She stared at it, the familiar lines and angles that were as easy to recognize as being inside of it herself.

“You mean for me to drift.”

“Yeah,” said Tendo. “You’re high on the list.”

“Why not Mako?” she asked. “Her style is closer to Becket’s.” This she knew only because she’d run some personnel file simulations herself. At best she had an eighty-five percent match with him, which was at least two percent better than the other candidates. Mako, however, had a startling projected ninety-four percent. Depending on the trials it could be even closer than Chuck and Herc’s, though maybe not as well as Sasha and Aleksis.

“The Marshal’s got his reasons. Speaking of, I can see him now. I’ll let you go, Max.”

“Mm.”

She waited for him to go before going to inspect the parts she had leftover from other Jaeger’s - old reworks from Crimson, Shaolin Rogue and Horizon Brave. Probably a few other things were there in the different lock ups and she ran her hands over it, thinking of what she needed.  _ Strong circuitry, something well insulated to save from shock and severing. A mountable control panel. Keep it simple with buttons and switches - big interfaces mean big glitches. Only have a few days… _

She picked up a little switchboard, turning it back and forth. She figured it was for fuses at some point. She could repurpose it.

“Rupert!” she heard someone yell and she turned to see Chuck walking forward in his drive suit.

He leaned down, squishing Rupert’s face as the dog bounced with pleasure. Beyond him Herc was in his suit too, talking to a Stacker Pentecost and a blond man.

Raleigh Becket. Her future drift partner, maybe.

He didn’t seem to see her and she stood quietly until he disappeared. Mako remained a moment, looking around the bay for something, but after a moment she whisked away as well.

Max let out a breath, tossed the switchboard into a cart, and then found several spools of heavy insulated wire, all copper, no fibre optics. She wondered if that was best as she put it into the cart. Old school, but strong.

She dragged it behind her out into the bay. Herc was talking to Chuck and neither had spotted her, though they had to notice that Rupert was there. She instead waved at her right hand when it came to Striker, a man who was lanky and tall to the point of looking almost absurd, known to everyone back in Sydney as Tick-Tock. He was a tall, Maori, with his black hair bunched into a topknot and his arms adorned with traditional tattoos. 

“Hey Tick-Tock,” she said, coming to a halt. “You review the files I sent?”

“Mmhmm,” he said, his voice a deep bass. “Seems pretty simple, yeah? What do you want me and the others to start on?”

“I’m thinking Eriko can start with the K-Stunners so we’re combat ready, and then she can move on to replacing the Stingblade on the left arm. I want you and whomever you want on that mounting harness. I’ve got no clue where the shielding materials are.”

“Around, I imagine. They’ve got good equipment. What will you be up to?”

“Circuitry. I’m going to be opening the small manways and venting the nitrogen purge, so maybe keep on the ground until I give the all clear, yeah?”

“No problem. Me and the boys, we’ve got  _ plenty _ of work to do.”

“Thanks mate.”

“Thank- _ you, _ El Capitan. Good to see our girl in one place.”

“It really is.”

A glance around told her Herc and Chuck had disappeared - probably to get out of the drive and relay suits - so she sighed and pushed the cart to the lift. It didn’t take much muscle to force it up onto the ramp and over the mezzanine, but she still felt a bit alone as she went back for her tools and diagnostics kit. It was going to be good to get into her guts for a bit, even if she’d have to pack it in for an early night.

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. She had half a mind to tell Stacker she didn’t want the chance. The idea of how Chuck might look at her, and what he might think or say, seemed too depressing.

**

Once he was free of the drive suit he’d stopped in at the room to see if Max had come back. The place was nice, officer’s quarters, something Chuck would have liked long-term. There was a proper bed in it, which seemed weird, as well as bunks shifted to the side as an afterthought for him and Max.

She wasn’t there, though, and her things were boxed up and untouched showing she hadn’t been by while he’d been showering in the locker rooms. Dad wasn’t there either, and neither was Rupert. Probably with the Marshal talking about the big plans.

Like dad hadn’t accidentally slip ages ago in a drift, anyway. Chuck knew what was going to be expected of him in the mission. Dad felt confident it would work, but Chuck was still dour about it. He wanted to win the war, not die under the ocean. He doubted the odds of the plan going off without a hitch were good, but he supposed if he had to have faith in  _ something _ it was in whatever intelligence Dad and Pentecost were going to be giving him at the briefing with Max later.

Figuring she probably hadn’t slept or eaten, Chuck scooped a few electrolyte drinks out of the small refridgerator - these ones looking more like the green of a toxic dump site in a cartoon - and a few protein bars. 

He headed for the launch bays. He’d said his hellos to old colleagues, but Chuck had never gotten on with most of them. While Max and Mako had had a decent relationship, Mako had always disliked Chuck. She’d told him on one of the first times they’d met she thought he was arrogant and a poor soldier. He had no intention of mending that friendship. All he needed was Herc and Max and Rupert anyway.

The launch bays were noisy with work, last minute repairs making sparks cascade here and there and welding machines hiss and snap. He made straight for Striker’s, slipping past the low curtains and in. 

None of Max’s main people were about. Tick-Tock was working on welding something, clearly busy, and Eriko Hinata was directing a rigging crew. Looking at the raised lift and extended gangway, Chuck figured he knew where she was.

The ride up was slow, but it gave Chuck a chance to have a look around. The Hong Kong dome had reportedly been built for thirty jaegers, though it hadn’t seen nearly that many in her lifetime. The decline of the program had seen to that.

Gipsy Danger, bright blue with a new coat of paint and her glowing core, was next to theirs, her head off and raised up somewhere for its drop. He hadn’t been impressed to see Raleigh Becket wandering around the ‘Dome looking like a damn yobbo, and he’d heard again about Max being part of the trials the next day. Made him sick. His sister was way too good for that washed up run-away.

He walked down the gangway and into the mandoor he and Herc had used earlier to leave. It took a moment, stuffing his pockets with bottles and the protein bars, before he slid down the ladder and into the conn.

He heard the snore and smiled before he turned around. Head propped up on her tool box and an emergency blanket pack, she was curled into a tight ball and sleeping soundly.

“Didn’t sleep again did you,” he said, before walking over and giving her shoulder a rub. “Hey, up and at ‘em. Time for a proper smoko, yeah?”

She made a little annoyed moan. “Chuck?”

“Naw, s’your conscience. I know we don’t speak - and we really should, you act quite unbecomingly for a proper lady, but -  _ ooof!” _

She elbowed him, rolling over to glare, and he grinned at her. “So you’re up.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome.”

“Ace,” he said. “Brought you something to drink.”

“And maybe a condom?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Fraid not. You want to have a naughty up here?”

“Guess not. The boys might come up.” She stretched. “I just figured a good fuck might loosen me up some.”

He handed her the drink, figuring she’d tell him what was pissing her off when she was ready, before he opened his own. “Dad’s got a great big bed. We’ll do that later.”

“Mm.” She twisted the cap off the drink and drank a quarter in a pull. “Right, because I want to talk to him. Lieutenant Marshal ‘I’m Too Fucking Obedient To Tell My Kids We’re Going Down In A Nuke Blast’ Hansen.”

Chuck frowned. “He told you?”

“No, he- wait,  _ you _ know?”

“Drift,” he said. “Don’t like it, but I’ve known for weeks-”

“Fuck you!” she said, jumping up. “Here I’ve been agonizing over this shit since Pentecost contacted me with the plans, and you both  _ know _ that I get to watch you blow your stupid asses back to Kingdom Come!”

“Well what do you want me to say, Max? Pentecost wanted everyone who wasn’t - well, I know it’s stupid, but dad said they were orders.”

She glared at him. She looked very tired, deep circles under her eyes, face pale enough that her little freckles stood out like spots of fire. He knew he had to walk carefully, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m the only one in the dark on this, and I’ve got to build part of it. Don’t you think a few weeks of working, to make sure it functions regardless of battle damage, would have been ideal than hey! We’re going on the Breach in a week or so, do your best with scraps!”

She stomped away, leaving Chuck with her mess of tools and bits of materials. He heard her boots clunking on the ladder and he sighed, following her. She was heading for the gangway and he didn’t want to have to wait for the lift to come back up.

“Max… Max c’mere,” he said, jogging to catch up.

She didn’t look back, but he heard the challenge in her reply. “I need to eat and rest. I have trials tomorrow.”

It was bait, he knew it, and yet it worked. Anger welled up in him and he gritted his teeth before his response exploded out of him. “Becket is a goddamn has-been and we’re not talking about what a waste that trial is tomorrow.”

He grabbed her arm to make her stop, which was probably what she was waiting for. He tipped his head when she came around swinging and her slap caught him on the jaw, hard enough to sting, and enough that if her aim had been better he would be seeing stars.

“What the fuck is with you, Maxie?”

_ “Ehlt yog!”  _ she yelled, tugging on her arm. 

Chuck did, but he stepped with her until she was against a railing. He could feel that she was ashamed of hitting him, knew intuitively that her anger was fighting with the urge to apologize. And he knew he’d fucked up. Of course she was mad. Of course he was a prat.

He put his hands on either side of her, letting his forehead touch hers. She started quivering a moment later, and then the sniffing began.

“Oh Max…”

“Chuckie,” she reached out and pulled him in, her hands tugging on his shirt until he was tight against her. Her sniffs continued, hiccuping into his collar as  he hugged her.

“I’m a fuckwit, alright? And I’m sorry. Of course -  _ of course _ you’re mad, and I should have said.”

She made a ‘hmph’ sound, but she didn’t let go. He felt her softening under his arms and he squeezed her tighter. 

“I know you’ve got this. And we’ll make it out. We’ll blow that shit up and I’ll come straight back to your arms. I promise, Maxie.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she said, her voice thick, nose stuffed.

“Yeah, but I can always promise I’ll come find you.”

She pulled away to look up at him, rubbing tears away from her eyes. She responded with a bump to his forehead with her fist. “Dork. Just shut up, stop speaking, stop making dumbass promises, and hold me. We’re alone up here, alright? So just... shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And up come the trials...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, if anyone's still here.

A few minutes after their spat, both of them still stinging in different ways, they both got the same two texts:  _ Get to the mess,  _ shortly followed by  _ that’s an order.  _ It didn’t sound like anything remotely debatable, so both Max and Chuck marched to the lift, both of them quiet and looking different ways at the crowds around them. Hong Kong was a beehive compared to Sydney - it was going to be a zoo.

Herc was waiting for them near the entrance of the mess, Rupert at his heels and snuffling about and examining people’s feet.

“Hey daddy,” said Max, stepping away from Chuck, leaning in to give him a shoulder bump.

“Hey. Figured we’d come eat before everyone got out of duties,” said Herc as they walked into the hall together, Rupert at their feet. As she predicted there were plenty of people, and like Sydney they’d all sequestered themselves into little groups according to Jaeger. “Chuck, snag a spot, me and Max’ll get the food.”

Chuck shrugged, whistling at Rupert, as he headed off. Max followed Herc, wondering why he wanted a hand. There were plenty of food trays at the table, and normally he got all three of their meals, but she followed anyway.

There wasn’t much in the way of Chinese ethnic food, which was sort of disappointing, but it was arguable with so many new people from all over the ‘Dome was trying to cater to the new people. It made her think of Sydney with a pang. She hadn’t even really got to say good-bye to the place proper. With a sigh she added some salad to her tray, some chicken, as dad filled Chuck’s tray as well as his own. 

After helping herself to a carton of milk she followed Herc down the steps and froze. Looking lost, Raleigh Becket was standing in the center aisle and obviously wondering where to sit. It wasn’t like he had a co-pilot yet.

_ Me, _ she thought with a burst of anxiety,  _ that could be me. _

“Come sit with us,” said Herc amiably, holding out a tray -  _ Chuck’s tray -  _ and nodding to where Chuck was sitting with Rupert.

_ Oh god Chuck’s going to kill him, _ she thought faintly, following, her face going a bit red. At least Chuck could share with her, but…

“...This is my son and co-pilot, Chuck, and my daughter Max,” said Herc, sitting down, looking at what was still there on the table. “She’ll be in trials tomorrow with you.”

Raleigh’s eyes slid off Chuck at once and onto her. They were blue and grey, like the ocean in the morning. She felt another bolt of anxiety because she knew they were scanning her and sizing her up. She wondered what he was thinking, if he knew anything about her.

Her brother’s voice cut straight through her thoughts. “He’s more my co-pilot really,” said Chuck, in a tone that let Max know there was definitely hell to pay. It was his ‘TV’ voice. He was acting. He was  _ hurt. _ “Ain’t that right,  _ dad?” _

Herc ignored him, reaching for the potatoes. 

Max glanced at Chuck, but he ignored her. He had his predatory stare on. 

_ <”Alpha bullshit,”> _ she muttered. He kicked her under the table so she passed him her milk box, hoping at least if he ate he wouldn’t run his mouth when it was full of food.

“No twinspeak at the table, and certainly not with a damn guest,” said Herc, leveling a glare at her.

She wilted, poking her fork at her salad. She wasn’t hungry.

“So you’re up for trials tomorrow?” said Raleigh, obviously going for friendly. “You a recent grad?”

“Graduated at fifteen with me,” said Chuck, before she could reply. “Best sim score there is, two of us.”

“Maybe she could answer,” said Raleigh in a cold tone, looking at Chuck, “seeings how she might be my new co-pilot.”

_ Oh god. _ Max could feel the animosity. But Chuck merely shrugged, picking up a tomato off of Max’s plate and popping it in his mouth. “My bad.”

She breathed out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah we have a perfect score. They stopped running us on them after that, when Chuck passed trials with dad.”

“So you’re good then.”

“Dunno. Never fought a kaiju,” she took a bite out of her salad, relaxing a little. “I’m back up for Striker, but,” she added a shrug. “I mostly do engineering. J-Tech.”

Raleigh smiled, maybe about to ask something else, but Chuck cleared his throat, this time snatching something off of Herc’s plate. “Everyone’s pretty vague about you. What  _ have  _ you been doing? Heard you’ve been out five years. Must be pretty important, eh?”

“Construction,” said Raleigh. His tone had gotten hard again. She reminded him of dad in that moment. What she remembered from the old news footage was different, though. Raleigh had been a lot more like Chuck back then. 

Chuck snorted. “Oh that’s great. Yeah, something goes wrong, we can build our way out, eh Ray?”

“It’s Raleigh,” he replied, as Chuck laughed again. “And your sister is an engineer. Bet we’d cook something good up.”

It seemed to be the wrong choice of words, though. Chuck went still, turning another cherry tomato in his fingers a moment before he popped it and tossed it onto an empty spot on the table. “Listen,  _ Raaaaay _ -leigh. We don’t need you. Way I see it,  you’re going to slow us up and get my sister hurt. So if you fuck up, if any harm comes to one hair on her head, I’m going to drop you like a sack of kaiju shit.”

He flipped his cap onto his head and whistled at Rupert before looking at Max. “You coming?”

_ <”Apologize,”> _ she snapped.

Chuck snorted again. “Whatever. Come, Rupert!”

She listened to them leave, face burning. Herc was looking at his plate before he sighed. “Chuck drank your milk, Max. I’ll get you a new one.”

He got up abruptly, leaving the two of them alone. She fought the urge to run after Chuck. It would just be a victory for him.

“Your brother is an asshole,” said Raleigh, tapping his fork into his spaghetti.

“He means well.”

“Does he mean well when he doesn’t let you speak?”

She leveled a glare at Raleigh then. “No one talks shit about my brother,” she warned him. “But he’s freaked out like everyone else is. What do you want?”

“A drift partner who won’t let her brother’s over protectiveness get in the way of a mission.”

She wasn’t hungry at all, so she tossed her fork down. “I’ve wanted to jockey for years. My compatibility scores are fractions of a percent lower than his and Herc’s. So I got the short straw. I’m not going to cock it up. But I also don’t need you bad-mouthing him in my head because if anything is going to throw out a drift, it’s me throwing a punch. Me and him and dad, we’re all we got. So we stick together, even when someone’s being a fucking prat. You understand?”

Raleigh nodded after a minute. “Suppose I know a thing or two about that.”

“Suppose so. Tell dad I went back to the room.”

She swung her legs over the bench and got up, face still red.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

“I reckon we will.”

**

Max hardly slept. She and Chuck had had another row in the room that Herc had interrupted. It might have ended with people going to bed angry and pissed off if their dad hadn’t forced the issue and got them both cuddling and apologizing. The promise of sex - in a time where getting a few minutes even for a quickie was going to be impossible - seemed to make compromise a lot easier.

She woke up tired, popping an advil and chugging down an electrolyte drink that tasted like it was made by someone who had fruit punch described to them once without ever having tried a fruit. She knew she had to eat, get something proper in her stomach, but all she could do was a couple of protein bars before heading off to the kwoon. 

Both Herc and Chuck had been nowhere to be seen, probably having decided to let her have a lie in. She cursed them for it as she made it to the kwoon with a few minutes to spare. She would have liked a word of encouragement. Anything.

“Tardy,” said Stacker to her when she entered, his eyes on the clipboard. Mako was not looking at her either, her jaw set and eyes a little red.

“Sorry sir.”

“Sorry doesn’t cover it if you deploy too slowly, Ranger.”

Max bristled. As if she’d  _ ever _ been slow on a Kaiju Alert, but she knew better than to argue. “Yes sir.”

There was a long line of unassigned Rangers. Max was one of two girls there, not counting Mako. The other she didn’t know even by sight. All Max could tell was that she probably had at least nine or ten kilograms on Max, who weighed in at seventy-eight.

“As you are all no doubt aware, Miss Mori has restored Gipsy Danger to a working order better than before. The piloting of this Jaeger is an extreme privilege, and a matter of utmost importance. With the other Jaeger’s now in our bay, Danger will be used in a pivotal role to end the war. And while no doubt some of you have concerns about Raleigh Becket being unfit, I’d like to put them to rest, because unlike you, he  _ has _ faced down kaiju. He is no rookie or slouch. To be his co-pilot is an honor that one of you will have by the end of today.”

Movement caught Max’s eye. She had been watching Mako, whose face was now impassive, and she looked over. Herc entered, Rupert at his heels, and appearing mild mannered as he leaned against the wall. The sight of him caused a knot of anxiety to form, which only got worse when Herc met her eyes and winked. 

After Stacker informed them all of what the trials would entail - use of a bo staff, strict observance of form, and a four-to-four match up - he had them fall back to the edge of the kwoon. From what Max remembered reading on the candidate list she’d liberated from the PPDC mainframe (and okay, maybe that  _ had _ been Stacker’s private files, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t been easy to locate) they were going in order of least to best. 

_ “Fujimura, Hideki,” _ said Mako, her voice bored. From the line a man walked forward onto the mat with Raleigh, and the trials began.

Watching the fights tick down, often with very low scores on the candidates part, Max had to wonder why they were commencing in the order they were. _Why not start with higher percentiles?_ _Does Stacker want Raleigh tired?_

Never mind it also made her feel ill. It meant she was  _ last. _ The eighty-five percent match up seemed daunting and uncomfortable now. At least Raleigh seemed to be burning through the candidates fast. At this rate, they’d be well done by noon.

She also noticed, as they fought, Mako seemed to disapprove of every single performance. She wondered who was fucking it up. Considering the way she was staring at Raleigh, she’d bet  _ him. _ It was probably burning her up not to get in that ring. Wasn’t fair. And she bet Chuck would rather Mako was jockeying with Raleigh too.

That thought made her glance at the watching crowd. She could see one of the Wei’s there, and if she wasn’t mistaken, that was Chuck’s hat at the back.

She turned away, cheeks flushing. She wondered what he was there for - her performance, or Raleigh’s. As well as why he wasn’t watching with Herc.

“This isn’t working,” said Raleigh, turning to look at Stacker and Mako. The sound of his voice reminded her of the old interviews.  _ That _ was the old Raleigh. It seemed he’d grown up just enough not to bad mouth the candidates. 

Mako made a little disapproving nose. “Very well. Max Hansen!”

She felt a bolt of anticipation in her stomach. He’d taken out the other girl easily, and she had looked much stronger. From what she saw of Raleigh’s performance he was very quick and agile. More a dancer than a brawler. And while Max was arguably more elegant than Chuck - according to Mako, she was projected as having ‘Wide Range Drift Compatibility’ as opposed to Stacker and Herc, who were both universal - she was still nervous. Being able to sync with someone’s head was not going to be easy if their fighting styles were completely incompatible. 

She took a bo from the rack after chalking her hands. Raleigh was watching her step barefooted onto the matt. Like the others, she was dressed for combat in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and she felt conspicuous as she walked up. 

“You ready?” Raleigh asked - the most he’d said to anyone after the first few he was matched with. “They tell me you’ve drifted. It’s a lot like that.”

“I know. I’ve done these before,” she said, assuming a stance.

“Cockiness isn’t a good trait.”

She pursed her lips a moment. “Neither are assumptions.”

“Fair enough.”

“Best to four,” said Mako, her voice still annoyed by something.

There was a moment of quiet as she studied Raleigh. She’d had enough time to analyze his stance. He tended to react quickly to anyone who bull-rushed, tripping them up. He specialized in using their momentum against them, probably to conserve energy. But it also didn’t mean he had a lot of physical power because he certainly did.

Raleigh took his stance a moment, his eyes narrowed, and she saw him shift his weight ever so slightly to the right.

Tipped off, she was able to counter. Emboldened by his easy mistake, she sped up for a shot that looked easy, obviously what he’d been waiting for. Their bo’s struck three times before he managed to sweep her off her feet with a kick, making her land hard, and he froze the staff over her throat.

“One-nothing,” he said. “You saw my tell. But I warned you about cockiness.”

She brought her bo up, knocking his away from her face, before she lifted her weight and twisted her legs to jump up into a crouching position. The room was silent as she backed up and twirled the bo again. “Won’t do it again.”

He smiled. Beyond his shoulders, Herc was smiling.

She lunged first this time, remembering a master who had combined Yin Shou Gun with her crane fighting style. Keeping her taps lighter than expected she had him backing up with a fast flurry until she came in under his arm and brought the bo backhanded towards him, stopping short of his cheek.

He grinned. “You’re good.”

“I prefer boxing,” she said, stepping back. A glance at Mako showed another annoyed look on her face, but also a kind of smugness. “One - one.”

“Do you?” he asked, waiting just long enough for her to nod before he came in fast. This second sequence lasted a few seconds longer, both of them dodging. It took six strikes before she struck his bo aside with her own, twisting under his arms again. Sparring with Chuck and Herc, who had a lot of bulk on them, usually ended this way, throwing them down into the matts with their own momentum and weight. She put him into a neat armbar, twisting over his body, and slamming Raleigh down hard. 

He laughed beneath her. “Nice. Not really something you’d see Mike Tyson doing.”

Max hopped off, holding out her hand. She was doing better than any of the other candidates. She could feel it. If she kept her head clear and in the game, they could probably drift. She wasn’t as doubtful of the match-up now.

“Now, real fights mean you get mad. Can you get mad?”

“You saw me last night,” she said mildly, assuming her stance.

“Right. You stood up for big brother,” said Raleigh. “You often only get mad when Chuck’s not around to hold you back or show approval?”

She didn’t consider he might be taunting her for a test as she saw red. Max lunged again with a yell, this far closer to her usual choice. Hit them, hit them again, and hit them once more if they kept talking back. 

The bo’s only struck three times before Raleigh hit her in the stomach, sending her sprawling with a gasp for air.

“Two-two.”

She was about to say something - maybe correct that  _ she _ was the older one - when Mako sighed. “Can we continue please?”

Raleigh helped Max to her feet, but Max needed a moment to master herself, get her wind back. The hit had been hard. She doubted he had meant it, but her own strikes might have hurt him worse.

“You got a problem with your hand picked candidates, Miss Mori?” asked Raleigh, putting his hands on his staff as he looked at her. “Max is the best so far, and you still keep making that little angry face every match.”

Mako raised an eyebrow. Max looked at her, wondering what about her performance it might have been. Sure, the anger had been stupid, but they had the most solid match-up out of everyone.

“I’m not disappointed in Max’s performance,” said Mako, folding her hands around her clipboard. “I’m more disappointed with your gambit.”

She heard the challenge in Raleigh’s voice. “Oh? Are you now?”

“Yes. You could have taken everyone, pardoning Miss Hansen, several moves earlier. In her case, it was often only one move. Still a poor performance, on your part.”

It stung a bit, having Mako think that Max wasn’t keeping up enough, and that Raleigh was somehow holding back, but she also felt something there. She never saw Mako get her dander up quite this way. And she’d wanted to see Mako in trials before. Hell, she wanted to  _ do _ trials with her. She and Mako could easily match up, she was sure. It ought to be her and Mako down on the mats.

“Can we change this up?” said Raleigh. “No offense to Max here, but why don’t we give her a try?” he pointed his staff at Mako.

It was insulting regardless of intentions, but Max could see the way he looked at Mako. They hadn’t exchanged more than words but he obviously sensed his compatibility with her. Even just standing there as witness she could see it between the both of them. Mako, of course, looked at Stacker hopefully.

“No,” said Stacker, his voice firm. “We shall stick with the candidate list.”

“I remember that list,” said Max coolly, knowing she was really about to get into trouble for peeking. “Found it laying around. You know who had a ninety-four percent match up? Mako. S’funny, mine’s maybe eight-five.”

Stacker turned a look on her that might have petrified her if she hadn’t been emboldened by the way Mako stood up even straighter. Beyond them Herc raised an eyebrow, making Max wonder if Herc had been lied to.

“That’s a good point, Marshal,” said Raleigh. “Very good.”

“It’s not just about numbers, Mr. Becket, it’s about a physical compatibility-”

“Don’t think your best and brightest can cut it in the ring with me?” he challenged.

There was a moment of silence before Pentecost jerked his head for Mako to head into the ring. For some reason just seeing the hope in Mako’s eyes made her decide the decision was a good call, even if she wanted to be a jockey more than anything. 

“Sorry, Max,” said Raleigh to her as she passed.

“S’alright,” she said, giving him a tap with her arm.

“If it’s any consolation, you almost got me the last round. The last was nothing but luck.”

“It  _ is _ in fact.” She smiled, before walking up alongside Mako, who was taking off her boots. She crouched by her, giving Mako a smile. “I want you to know I will happily take the ass chewing I get for this.”

Mako looked up, eyes sparkling. “I will say it was my fault. If it all works out, anyway. Are you sure you don’t want to insist with your trial? I know you want to do this very badly.”

Max knew it killed Mako to say that. Like her, it seemed Mako always had a hard time being selfish when it was the most important. “I’ll survive, Mako. You’ve been waiting too. And besides. I’ve got work to do on Striker.”

It hurt as she said it. Hurt bad. She wanted to be in that conn pod, wanted to kick kaiju ass. She’d even fantasised last night as she brushed her teeth, holding out her hand and imagining the plasma cannon. But Mako had waited just as long as she had. Someone had to go. And at least Max had drifted before with Herc and Chuck. She had a spot which, god forbid at this point, could be hers.

Mako smiled at her. “I am sorry. For being short with you.”

“S’all good. I put up with Chuck all day, how bad d’you think you are?”

Mako laughed, walking onto the matts. As Raleigh looked at her, studying her, Max knew she’d made a good choice. They moved similarly.

She glanced up just once to see what Chuck was thinking.

He was smirking.

Frozen, and knowing she couldn’t move lest Raleigh bested Mako easily, she looked away, cheeks burning harder, hands shaking at her side. Sure, she hadn’t been the best. That much could be said, according to Mako and Stacker both she was sure, but he didn’t have to look so fucking  _ pleased _ that she’d fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has pretty well been terrible in every possible way. I won't dump about it, but my life's been twisted all around. Hoping for a change soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen Uprising. I don't expect to be excited by it. BUT here's some more. If anyone's still out there...

One minute Max was there, the next she was gone. Herc’s attention had wavered from her to Stacker, trying to decipher in himself if he was proud of her for giving Mako a shot, or sad that she had probably lost it with the anger he sensed coming off of the Marshal, and the next she was gone. He frowned, wondering if she’d gone to wash her hands at the side, or for a drink, but no. She had disappeared. Even her boots were gone.

As Mako and Becket squared off he clicked his tongue at Rupert and left through the closest door. The lift doors were closed, a light signalling it was still there, so he swung to the left and went for the emergency stairs.

He heard her before he saw her, and at once Rupert ran off in a scrabble of fat paws as he fumbled down the stairs. 

“Oh Rupe…”

Her voice was thick and it gave Herc a little pang to hear it as he walked down the few flights to see her sitting in a corner on the concrete, her arms around Rupert’s body, which was wiggling trying to get closer to Max and comfort her.

She looked up at Herc, wiping at her eyes. “Hi daddy.”

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She laughed, the sound wet. “No.”

“Is it because Mako has better compatibility?”

“No. I know she’s better for it. And I’m fine with not fighting.”

So was Herc, truth be told, but probably in a very different way than she was. So he sighed and reached out, pulling her smaller frame against his body, pressing his lips against the top of her head. “Then why’d you run so fast?”

“Chuck. He’s too pleased I’m not drifting with Becket. I mean, I know it’s not the greatest idea. If he finds out about the three of us that means disaster. But to be so against me just wanting to fight like you guys…”

He felt a prickle of irritation. He hadn’t known Chuck was even there. He’d told Herc he’d rather not, in a foul explosive mood ever since he’d found him at the mess earlier than he ever got up. But he’d actually shown?

“How do you know he’s pleased, love?”

“He was smirking.”

With a rumble of a sigh and irritation, he reckoned it was time to have another heart to heart with the stubborn sprog, and this one less kind than the talk they’d had that morning. Sure Herc wanted her just as safe as Chuck did, but he also wasn’t a fool. Without this last push the world would end. Did he really think that Max would just sit passively by if they didn’t make it back from the mission?

He was about to suggest going down to the bay when his pager rumbled. With a grunt he looked at it. Stacker.

“You’re wanted. Get up,” he said.

“Now?”

“Yes now. Marshal’s orders.”

She blew out a breath, standing up and wiping at her eyes, trying to clear the redness. Rupert chewed her boots a moment before they walked to the lower level and headed for the lift. He knew there was only reason this was going to happen. He’d have told Herc in a message to inform Max of a rejection. This didn’t make sense.

“He’s telling me I’m going to drift,” she said softly, as they went.

“Probably. I don’t know, and won’t until you tell me.”

“I thought we-”

“Not we. Just you.”

She swallowed. “Or it could be I’m in deep shit for looking at the personal records of the drift candidates.”

He laughed. “Oh, undoubtedly. Which makes me figure that could be part of why he picked you. Becket is shite at following orders too, from what I understand. Not that my call would have been remotely different five years ago.”

The administration wing was devoid of life. Stacker’s office was down the hall, one of the few overlooking the bay. At one point it would have been Commander Zhang Bao’s room, but he’d requested retirement after one of the last Chinese jaegers had been destroyed. One of his sons, or so Herc knew, had been killed along with it.

Before they reached the room the door opened, Stacker stepping out, his eyes as impassive as ever. So Herc just squeezed Max’s arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be right out here.”

So nervous she couldn’t seem to smile at him, all she did was squeeze back before following him inside, the door swinging shut with a clang and a turn of the lock.

+++

Max was silent as she followed Stacker further inside, their shoes clicking and echoing off of the concrete walls of the wide officers quarters. She wished she’d thought to bring Rupert, but he was outside with dad. There was nothing else there but the light off the bay, a temporary break in the storm clouds that had been a constant for days.

Stacker stopped before his desk, hands behind his back, and he stared at it as if contemplating something very hard. She waited, knowing better than to speak. Whether this was pure punishment or an assignment, talking out of turn was going to be very unwise.

“Ranger Maxine Hansen,” he said finally, when the silence got almost unbearable. “No drops, but wide range drift compatibility. You’ve inherited a lot of Herc’s best traits. Tenacity, or stubbornness… you follow orders, and while you step out of line and cause the occasional fight like your brother, you show good judgement. Your work on Striker Eureka and other jaegers is prodigious.”   
  
He turned around, surveying her. Max wasn’t sure what blow was going to fall while she swelled some from the praise. 

“And while I need to undoubtedly have a long heart to heart with you about personal files and privacy, I am also pleased to inform you that Gipsy Danger is your next assignment. You’ll report to suit up in two hours and prepare for the test drift.”

It should have been a proud moment. It should have made her want to jump and yell with excitement to finally get the chance. Instead she felt…

Hollow. There was no swoop of excitement. No proud moment, no tears of joy. Just imagining Mako’s face when she stiffly watched the test run. Her dead voice. The loss of a good friend. Practically the loss of a sister.

“I’m sorry sir.”

A muscle in Pentecost’s jaw twitched. “Care to elaborate, Ranger?”

“I’m sorry. But Mako Mori is the better choice. She and I have piloted the same amount of times. And… respectfully sir,” she felt like she was dying to say this, forcing out the words like a robot, “I know you think she’s too angry. But - but Striker still needs me. I need to protect the family in my life too. And I’ll do that better, I think, making sure the package is delivered without a hitch. As lead Jaeger Technician and Engineer, I respectfully decline the role as Ranger for Gipsy Danger.”

There was a profound silence. She watched the muscle tick a few more times before Pentecost slowly blew out a breath. “That was well said. And I am reminded that you do follow the rules… to a moral point.”

“But I mean it about Mako.”

“Hansen-”

_ “Uncle _ Stacker,” she said quickly, like she had when Scott was still living with them, when she and Chuck were small. “I’ve known her almost as long as you have. And she’s like a sister to me, sir. And - and she deserves it.”

He sighed. “Dismissed, Ranger.”

She blinked. “Sir?”

“You’re still a back up pilot, Maxie. Now get out, I have work to do.”

She saluted. “Sir.”

And while she felt sort of like there was lead in her system as she let herself out, she knew she’d done the right thing. Hadn’t she?

The door was closed with a squeak and she turned to smile at dad and Rupert. Rupert barked, running up to drool on her, and Herc tilted his head. “Honey?”

“Still a Ranger, not a jockey. I’m a head tech first and foremost.”

“Is that what you want?”

She shrugged. “...Think so.”

“Want to go back to the room?” Herc’s arm went around her, and she chewed her lip a moment. As Lieutenant Marshal, Herc would have to be in LOCCENT during the test drifting, but that was scheduled for a few hours from then. And she really didn’t want to see Chuck.

“Why don’t... we… go over some things I’ve been working on?” Max suggested with an air of innocence as they entered the lift, thinking about the deserted con pod. “The guys could look after Rupe.”

A pause, with Herc’s thumb hovering over the level for the residential wing in an obvious mental debate, before he hit the button for the bay level. 

+++

_ “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” _ Max’s hands were twisted up above her, holding on to the bracing for the drift suits, muscles bulged and shaking from the strain, stomach tight as Herc held her up by her hips. Max’s head was tilted back, mouth open as she moaned over and again, alternating between wiggling in his grasp and squeezing tight with her thighs around his hips.

Herc moved, tugging her away and she let go to curl over his body, hips bouncing and refusing to lose the friction. He turned to press her against the wall, his mouth finding hers, trying to be sweet when she was trying to bite.

“Daddy-”

Herc practically growled at that, teeth nipping her lip. She tasted blood and her fingers tightened like a vise in his hair holding him close for more. She was so close she felt like she was going to-

Sensation gone she made a frustrated snarl as Herc pulled away again, this time his cock falling from her. “Easy girl,” he said, his eyes that mixture of guilt and need they always had. “Too much and I’ll blow in you before you’re done. On the ground.”

It didn’t take much to get her to obey, getting down to her knees. He followed a moment later, hiking up her hips to push into her again with a smooth motion that had her sex throbbing with want. She didn’t want to be gentle, but Herc seemed determined with it as he fucked into her, pinning her hands down to prevent them from scouring at his shoulders. 

The smooth pace, however, was enough to get her pliant and moaning after a few minutes. Despite her want to bite and feel wrecked Herc still knew what he was doing. His thick cock stretched her wide and when he let go of one hand to play with her clit, his rough rubbing against her chest as he found one of her nipples, she was breaking down all over again, this time with tears. 

“D-d-daadyyyyyyy…” She came on his cock, body tensing on the cold metal ground, back arching against him. “Give it - please.”

Herc swore, finishing inside, throbbing, entire body twitching as he held her close. There was just the sounds of their breaths, and somewhere Herc’s pager going off forgotten in his clothes. Probably had to get ready for drift trials. 

Max ignored the sound, kissing him, nudging her hips in a hope to coax for more, but Herc was laughing.

“I ain’t Chuck,” he replied, making her mood sour some as he pulled out. “I can’t get it up in thirty seconds anymore. I’m old.”

“Not that old,” she said. 

“Tell that to my body.”

They were laying side by side now, her hand entwined with his, breaths slowing down from their panting. He was huge beside her, and Max felt small, but in such a good way. She closed her eyes, squeezing his fingers. 

“You’ll be fucking me for a long time yet,” she said.

Herc snorted, an unamused sound. She didn’t want to think of the cause, sitting up next to him, pleased with the pool of warmth and gush of her juices and Herc’s between her legs. He looked at her appraisingly.

“If I was a good dad, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“If the world was fair it wouldn’t have. But for once I’m glad it isn’t.” She looked around at her odds and ends and unfinished business. “I’ve got to get to work soon. Smack Chuck for me when you get the chance. I’ll do it again when I’m home.”

Herc shook his head, getting up to find his pants. “Right. Hi ho, hi ho…”

“Off to work you go?” she didn’t want to get dressed, not when she’d rather enjoy the loose limbed feelings. But reluctantly she grabbed her panties, using them to clean up. That’d be interesting, if one of the lads found them. She stuffed them in her coverall pocket.

“You sure you don’t want to watch the drift test?”

“I’m sure. I’ve got work here too.” Like Tick-Tock’s perplexing message that parts had been taken from Shaolin’s reserves last night, but no one had logged it in. “I’ll see it anyway if I sit up on the gangway.”

Herc leaned over to kiss her good-bye. “Behave.”

“Nah. Behaving’s for suckers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but I am determined to finish


End file.
